Darker Days Ahead
by Blr
Summary: Part 1 of 3. Takes place after Black Dawn. Morganville is changing, mostly for the worst. But Claire, Shane, Michael and Eve have to believe that there is a brighter future within their reach. The vampires are encouraging new people to move into Morganville to boost the population. But is it too soon? Morganville isn't out of danger yet, but can anyone save it? Please R/R.
1. 1 - Michael

Author's Note: I obviously don't own any of this, and I obviously wish I did, so I could make the story lines work the way I want them to. Since I don't, this is my best hope. Please read, please enjoy, please review. I know this is short, but think of it as more of an Intro than a first chapter. Much Love. ~ Billie

MICHAEL

The house on Lot Street had been empty for as long as I could remember. Hell, I was pretty sure it'd been empty my parents' whole lives too. It had become so much of my background - I saw it every time I walked out the front door, every time I checked the driveway to make sure Eve had made it home safely, every time I gazed out in the distance with my guitar in my hand - that when it was finally torn down, it felt like a piece of me was missing.

Not that I had ever cared so much about it. It hadn't had any special meaning to me. It had been a house, and not a very attractive one at that. Over the years, it had begun to look less and less house-like, and more like something I saw in the zombie video games Shane and I were so often playing.

When Eve had gone through her "I'm going to become a photographer" phase, she had spent a few days taking photos of the old place. And she was talented enough to make them look like something you'd see in a magazine. I loved how she could take something that I took for granted every day and turn it into something beautiful. It was one of the many things I loved about her.

It was Shane who first noticed it. I woke up that morning with Eve's still sleeping form warm beside me. We had been married for three months now, and it was still the greatest feeling in my life when I looked down at the white gold ring I now wore on my left hand. Things had been changing here in Morganville since the destruction of the draug and their leader Magnus, and they hadn't been for the better. But when I looked down at my hand, things always seemed just a little brighter.

Eve murmured sleepily as I got out of bed in the room we now officially shared, and I rested my hand on her head as she drifted back to sleep. I dressed quietly in the bathroom we now shared, and left the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind me. I made my way to the fridge and got out one of my sports bottles, heating it in the microwave for a few seconds just to get the chill off. I drank my breakfast, rinsed out the bottle, and headed into the living room.

I was always the first one up in the morning, so I was pretty shocked to see Shane standing at the front window staring out into the front yard. "Dude, look," he said, stepping aside to give me a view. Human construction workers were in the yard across the street, demolishing the house that had been the backdrop of so many memories.

"Huh," I replied. Like I said, the house wasn't something important to me, but it was a strange feeling, watching something in Morganville be torn down. "I wonder what's going on."

"They probably finally realized that place was an accident waiting to happen," Shane commented. And I had to admit he was probably right. As a matter of fact, a lot of buildings here in Morganville had been damaged irreparably after the battle with the draug. As I understood it, the draug had a tendency to destroy buildings much more quickly than normal wear and tear. It wasn't a new thing to see houses being torn down or remodeled, not anymore, but still - the houses that had been repaired so far were all actually lived in. The rulers of this town weren't the sort to waste time and money better spent elsewhere just to keep a few humans safe - at least, they weren't anymore.

I watched the destruction for a few more minutes before sitting down and turning on the television. There had to be something good on tv, or at least on Netflix. And if not, well I could always pop on a video game and count on Shane joining me. Shane still stood by the window, as if he was wondering if the demolishing of the house across the street had some sort of meaning. He'd had these moments since his encounter with the draug. We didn't talk about his time in that place too much, but Claire had confided in me that the monsters had taken all of Shane's hopes and dreams and perverted them into something that poisoned his very soul. There were more reasons than one why I was glad we had killed the bastards.

I flipped the TV to some Discovery Channel show about survival and relaxed into the couch. Soon, Shane left the window and went into the kitchen, presumably to make breakfast for the others. I thought back to the photos Eve had taken of the old house, and wondered what would be going up in its place. Turned out, I didn't have to wait long.


	2. 2 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just keep remembering that I don't own any of this. Also, this story will be written in the same manner as the most recent books, from a variety of characters' points of view. Just make a note at the top, or if you forget, every chapter is titled as the character who's POV it is in. I won't ever be swapping POVs in the middle of chapters. As always, Please read, please enjoy, please review. Thanks! ~ Billie

CLAIRE

Claire had slept in. She woke with a start, and jumped out of bed in that "I'm late" sort of frenzy one enters when they know they have overslept and have somewhere important to be. She had already dressed and was running into the bathroom to brush her teeth and run a brush through her hair when she realized it was Saturday. Sighing in irritation, she slowed her pace. It was going to be one of _those_ days, she could tell.

As Claire descended the stairs, she could hear heavy machinery out front. A few days ago, the building across the street had been demolished, and she guessed they were already breaking ground on whatever would be replacing it. Not a surprise, really. Morganville didn't stop very long to mourn the loss of anything. She walked into the kitchen and broke into a grin at the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of bacon sizzling in the pan.

That grin became even larger when she saw that the person cooking it was none other than Shane. She stepped up behind him and slid her hands around his slim waist. She kissed his back (since that was all she could reach) and squeezed him tightly. She felt him tense at her touch and just that little reaction from him was enough to start her heart pounding.

He turned to her and wrapped his arms around her. He was so...big. Tall, with long arms and legs, his hands were almost bigger than her face. And when he held her like this, she felt like nothing in the world could ever come between them. He paused, and looked down at her. The look in his eyes was so tender, so gentle, so full of _love_, that Claire thought her heart would burst from the feelings it inspired. She hoped he saw as much love in her eyes as she saw in his. He deserved that and more.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he murmured as he bent down to kiss her. It was a short kiss, but it was soft, smooth, and it melted her as if she were a candle and he was her flame. And, to some extent, perhaps that was true. He burned so brightly that Claire sometimes forgot the world around her. He drew her to him as if he were a beacon. Nothing would break what they had. Nothing.

Claire smiled as he pulled away from her and turned back to flip the bacon. "Good morning to you, too." She grabbed a coffee mug off of the shelf and poured herself a cup. She added in what was probably too much sugar and grabbed the creamer from the fridge, adding in just enough to turn the dark brown drink into a softer color. She sat at the table and watched Shane be domestic. With things being like they were in the town, she and Shane had less and less time together as of late, and simple things like sharing breakfast were becoming more and more rare. She spent most of her days at the newly opened TPU campus, prepping for what would possibly be her last semester as a sophomore, and Shane spent most of his evenings working. The barbecue shop he had worked at for about a year had reopened after the majority of the town members had returned, but there were people missing - more it seemed each day.

And Amelie - well, Amelie wasn't the same person she had been anymore. Not that she had ever actually been a person in the time Claire had known her, but still. She'd changed. And not for the better. Claire had some thoughts on that, but she didn't have much of a chance to share them with anyone who would be able to give her any real answers. Myrnin had been increasingly distant from her since the incident with the draug, and she wasn't sure if it was because he was working on something or if it was because of the choice she'd made when he brought her back. She shivered involuntarily at the memory of watching her body as it lay on the floor, cold and lifeless. She shook off the thoughts - that was a very dark place in her life, and she wanted to forget it if she could.

Not that she ever would forget it. Nor would she would forget the look on Shane's face as he sat in her floor, whispering his goodbyes to an empty room, a gun in his hands. Her heart ached when she thought of Shane, so vulnerable, so alone. That thought inevitably lead to thoughts of Shane's suffering at the hands of the draug, which inevitably lead back to memories of her death. It was a vicious circle. One she desperately needed to get out of before Shane caught her in it. It hadn't taken him long to figure out where she was going in her mind when she started to drift off. And that took him to that dark place in his own mind. And when he reached the darkness, it was hard for him to get out of it - harder every time./p

She was so out of it, that she jumped at the sound of the front door opening. "Honey, I'm home!" called Eve as she swung into the kitchen carrying bags.

Claire smiled. Eve always could light up a room just by walking into it, and now, with the honeymoon glow still on her cheeks, she did it even better than before. "Where have you been this morning?"

"Grocery shopping," Eve replied. "Someone around here has to keep the pantry stocked!" She turned to Shane. "Come on, big strong man. Help me bring in the groceries."

"But, but I'm cooking _bacon_," Shane protested half-heartedly.

"Well, we can't let the pork burn. It'd be a terrible shame. Fine, you stay inside and get your domestication on while we women folk take care of the heavy lifting. Come on, CB."

Claire stood up and swung around the table toward the living room. As she passed Shane, she gave him a gentle whack on his bottom. "Keep up the good work, babe. We'll make a housewife out of you yet."

Shane pretended to swat her with the spatula as she ducked out the door to help Eve, both of them smiling. Walking out front, Claire stopped and glanced across the street. Where the old house had sat in silence only days before, there was now a frenzy of activity. Men in hardhats poured a new basement for whatever would be replacing it. The construction crew was working hard in the midday sun, and Claire could tell that they were going about the whole thing with a high level of efficiency.

"Yeah, pretty crazy, huh?" Eve mentioned as she headed inside with her hands full of bags. Claire shook herself out of her reverie and walked out to the old hearse to grab the 24 packs of Coke and Mountain Dew Eve had picked up. She tucked the toilet paper that was also back there under her arm and slammed the trunk of the car shut. Hefting the cases of soda, Claire cast one look back at the construction before heading inside.

Returning to the kitchen, Claire walked in on a conversation between Eve and Shane, going on as Eve put up groceries and Shane mixed eggs in a bowl for scrambled eggs. "But yeah," Eve continued, throwing a bottle of dish soap on the counter and tucking a box of pancake mix in the cabinet, "Michael tells me that this is the first time in almost fifty years they've bothered marketing real estate out of the city limits."

"Wait, what?" Claire asked as she dropped the sodas in front of the fridge and sat the toilet paper by the door to be carried upstairs. "Who's marketing real estate? What real estate?"

"The vampires," Eve replied casually. "For the first time if like, forever, they're posting real estate listings. Michael says they're trying to invite new folks into town. Something about the human population dropping at too quick a rate."

Claire opened the fridge and began to load in the sodas on the bottom shelf. "Well, we did lose a _lot_ of people during the war with the draug," she said softly, thinking of Richard Morrell and the pain in Hannah's eyes as she watched the man she loved die in her arms.

"True that," Eve replied, her voice a little thinner than it had been. "Not to mention that more than a few folks escaped during the evacuation. This place is virtually a ghost town now, no offense, Miranda."

Claire frowned as she thought about what Eve was saying, It was true. By her guess, Claire would bet that Morganville had lost at least a fourth of its population, and probably closer to a third. That was a huge loss of people to work in the city, not to mention to donate blood to the hungry vampires. And sure, the town had lost its share of them, as well, but the vampires seemed determined to up their numbers - and quickly. And based on the fact that the first person they'd turned was Eve's psycho brother Jason, Claire was pretty sure they weren't being too picky with whom they chose to turn.

Claire waited for Eve to continue, but she didn't. It seemed that she had already shared all she knew. "So, to clarify," Claire began, "They're looking for new people to come and live here. And if they do, those people will become part of the Morganville population and never be allowed to leave?"

"Exactly," Shane interjected as he stirred the eggs in the pan.

"What are we going to do about it?" Claire asked.

Eve turned to look as Claire as she responded. "Unfortunately, there's nothing we _can_ do. People are already arriving. That's what's going on across the street. Someone bought the land and razed the house. They're building one to their own specifications. Michael found out about it last night."

Claire's pulse fluttered. "But.." her protests died off before they even really began. Her mind ran through a hundred different scenarios and slapped them all down in mere moments. She swallowed hard, but her throat felt dry and swollen. Innocent people were about to become prisoners in the town of Morganville. And there truly _wasn't_ anything she could do to stop it.


	3. 3 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As said, none of this is mine. Thank you for your kind reviews, and please keep them coming. I'm trying to stay as real to the books as possible, but obviously my own flare will be tossed in from time to time, please forgive me if that throws off your enjoyment. As always, please read, please enjoy, please review. Much love! ~Billie

CLAIRE

Claire really was late this morning. She'd been completely on time, and of course, stressed about classes starting up today. Her stress had been funny to Eve, who still didn't seem to understand just how important school was to Claire, but Shane had taken a different path with his opinion. As soon as she came downstairs with her book bag stuffed to the breaking point with books and that look that was a mixture of fear and excitement on her face, he had lead her back upstairs despite her protests to help her... _relax_. It had worked, but it also meant that instead of getting to the campus in plenty of time to find her class and get settled, she was right on the dot.

She pulled open the door to the Physics building and speed-walked down the hallway. By the time she'd reached the stairs, she had broken out into a full run, worst case scenarios running through her mind. The teacher had been early, the class had already received their syllabi, there was a pop quiz that she had missed. The list just kept on and on. Some part of Claire's mind _knew_ this wasn't the best thing to obsess over, but the other part, the part of Claire that drew her to Myrnin, that made her and Myrnin somehow_ alike _reminded her of only three huge letters blinking over and over again in her mind's eye - MIT.

She hurried down the upstairs hall to room 203, the learning half of her Advanced Physics class. She had taken classes with this professor before, and he was always a pretty friendly guy, so she hoped he would forgive her her lateness. So it was quite a shock to her when she entered the classroom and found it empty, except for a young woman not much older than Claire herself.

The woman's head was bent down over some sort of book, but she raised her eyes to meet Claire's as soon as she entered the room. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry," Claire burst out. "It's just, I'm supposed to have a class in here. At least," she fumbled with the schedule she had printed out from the school library the Friday before, "At least it says I'm supposed to."

There was a glint of something in the woman's eyes - humor perhaps? Maybe some, but it was mixed with something else Claire couldn't quite put her finger on. Something darker. "Miss Danvers, I'm assuming?" The woman's voice was deeper than Claire would have imagined, but not necessarily masculine. Her eyes still held that same glint as she eyed Claire, and Claire suddenly had the feeling that she was being judged and found lacking.

Claire shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if she were the same nervous, unsure child she had been two years before when she first arrived in Morganville. She didn't like that feeling, not at all. "Yes, ma'am," she said quietly, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with the woman sitting at the desk.

The woman nodded and set the book to the side. It was some kind of trashy, bodice-ripping romance novel, Claire noticed with an inner grin. This woman couldn't be that scary if those were the things she read in her free time. "You're running late today," the woman noted as she stood. "I hope that won't be a habit."

Claire frowned, unsure of what was going on. "Um, no ma'am. It's just, you know. First day of classes and all. I misjudged the amount of time it would take me to get here."

"Yes, well. As you know, we must always be precise when it comes to any sort of measurement," the woman said. "Very well, let's get started. Take a seat if you will." She gestured to the empty classroom. "You may sit wherever you like, but since it will just be the two of us this semester, I suggest you choose somewhere near the front. And near the center."

Claire frowned, but dutifully took the front center seat, pulling out a notebook and her copy of the class required text.

"Very good," the woman said with a smile. It seemed genuine, but there was still that strange, dark emotion in her eyes. "My name is Ivy Daybourne, and I will be your substitute professor this semester, as Professor West has unfortunately failed to return to the campus this semester. You may call me Doctor Daybourne. No, I don't know if he left for good or not, and no, I don't know if or when he will return. All I know is that I am to be his replacement until further notice. If you'll turn to a blank page in your notebook, I would like to start with an assessment of your skills, Miss Danvers, to determine where we will be focusing our studies. I am told you are quite skilled for your age. I certainly hope that is the case. I would hate for my valuable time to be wasted on someone unworthy of my teachings. Now. On with the test."

Tests were where Claire really shined. She was quick on her feet, and all too often found herself almost bored with them. The only time she really felt challenged by a test was when she was with Myrnin and trying to make sense of his questions. Myrnin's questions were often so convoluted that discovering what he was actually asking was often harder than finding the actual answer. Granted, it didn't help that the questions he asked were often mixed with alchemy and any other old, outdated scientific system he happened to think of.

But this test was different. Firstly, it was oral. The paper was only for math calculations. Claire had to admit, Doctor Daybourne was extremely knowledgeable on a vast number of topics, but Claire had difficulty understanding how the woman's brain was working. The questions were thrown out almost at random, and covered topics beyond the scope of Physics. One moment she was being asked to describe the basics of particle physics, and the next she was asked to examine the difference between Kierkegaard's philosophical existentialism and that of Hume.

By the end of the class period, Claire had answered a total of more than one hundred questions on almost every topic Claire could think of, including five in which she was asked to diagram sentences on her paper. Doctor Daybourne made no sign of whether or not she approved of Claire's answers, and as far as Claire saw, she hadn't taken a single note about how Claire had done. When the class was over, she simply nodded and returned to her desk with a brief word of dismissal and a reminder that the lab portion of her class would be held the following morning. As Claire packed up her things, she took time to take note of the woman before her. She had not paid much attention to her before the class, had been too busy being confused by what was going on.

As Claire had noticed before, she was young, but probably not as young as Claire had first thought. Claire guessed she was probably somewhere in her mid twenties. She dressed as if she were older, though. Much older. She wore a long ankle-length skirt in neutral pastels, and on top she had a light brown sweater buttoned up all the way. She had her dark, reddish brown hair pulled up in a loose bun, and thin strands of it fell from it to brush her shoulders. She was about the same height as Claire, and she wore rings, lots of them, on her thin fingers. She noticed Claire eyeing her and gave her a smirk and a wink.

Claire felt her cheeks burn as she finished packing her bags. Before leaving, Claire turned to Doctor Daybourne and asked, "So, are you staying here on campus for the semester?"

"No," the doctor replied as she gathered up her books and placed them in a satchel. "I'll just be here until my house is finished being built. I bought a place in town. Over on Lot Street."


	4. 4 - Amelie

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, I don't own anything. And as always, please read, please enjoy, please review. And if you enjoy it, or know of friends who would, PLEASE share! Thank you! Much love, Billie

AMELIE

I sat behind my desk at my office, feeling as if I were in a haze. Things had been changing these last few months. Morganville was not what I had once believed it was. I was not who I once believed I was. I knew there were things - important things - that I should be doing, yet I couldn't. My mind was taken over by Oliver. He stood in front of me, his legs crossed in that way men have when they believe they are in control. A casual sort of masculine strength.

For the first time in a long time, I thought perhaps he was right. I had not been the same since the night Oliver and I kissed - we had not been the same. He held a power over me now that I could not ignore; yet I still tried to. Something had shifted between us in the time from when I was bitten by the draug until now. I did not know if it was the knowledge that he had seen me so weak that made me feel more vulnerable to him, or if it was the knowledge that he alone had cared for me in that terrible time between the bite and my victory over Magnus.

I was disconcerted over the whole situation. My feelings felt as if they were no longer my own, but both Oliver and Theo assured me that was to be expected when recovering from almost being destroyed. I hoped very much that they were correct.

Myrnin, on the other hand - the fool - believed that I was no longer myself. To be honest, there was some small part of me that worried the same thing, but that small part of me was nothing compared to the overwhelming certainty that I was better, that I had to be better, in order for this town to succeed.  
And so, when Oliver came to me with the idea of allowing fresh blood (for lack of a better term) to enter the town's limits, I was eventually persuaded to see the sense in doing so. After all, Morganville had suffered dramatic losses in the days of our draug infestation. Even I was still unsure of the exact number of bodies that were pulled out of the waters of Morganville, and I was not going to waste any time trying to piece the skeletons of those consumed back together. Suffice it to say, there were many, many bones, and far too few still beating hearts. New humans would be a fantastic source of food. After all, a queen must be concerned for the well-being of her subjects at all times. I couldn't risk forcing my people to go hungry or even worse, to go rogue.

And make no mistake, I was a queen in every sense of the word, now.

Oliver smiled at me and I felt a heat flare in my stomach that I had not felt since before Sam's death. Dear, sweet, gentle Sam. When he died, I had believed the part of me that knew how to love had died as well. Now, looking at Oliver as he sat across from me, I thought perhaps it had not died, but simply lain dormant until it found someone worth such feelings again. And while perhaps it was foolish of me to believe that Oliver would ever be the man Sam was, it could just as easily be foolish of me to assume that I needed a man like Sam. Oliver was, after all, a warrior.

And every queen needed a trusted enforcer. Even better if she was intimate with him as well - a woman can gain so much from a man when he lets his guard down at the end of the day, when he lays his head in his bed. He is never more vulnerable than at that moment. And despite my growing fondness for Oliver, I knew that I must always keep him vulnerable, and make every attempt to keep myself powerful.

It was this reason why he still sat on the other side of my desk, in the armchairs I had chosen for visitors specifically because they did not offer the comfort that encouraged guests to stay any longer than necessary. He didn't seem to realize that he sat there by my choice. In his typical arrogance, he assumed that it was simply because he was humoring me, allowing me to believe I was in charge when really he was. I didn't appreciate his arrogance, but it was something I understood. And when I was young, the arrogance of men was something we women learned to take advantage of if we wished to reach any level of standing in our society. And I had always aspired to the highest of political positions.

"My dear Amelie," Oliver began, and I was certain that we were about to have the same discussion we had been having off and on for the last three months.

"Yes, Oliver?" I asked, not looking up from the papers that sat on my desk. If I feigned that his words weren't enough to warrant my full attention, perhaps I could avoid this conversation all together.

Unfortunately, it seemed this conversation would be held regardless of how much importance I placed on it. "We simply must speak again of this whole issue of... relationships between vampires and humans. We have far too many of our kind cavorting with far too many of their kind."

I sighed. "You mean the 'marriage' between Mister Glass and Miss Rosser?"

Oliver frowned. "Not only that," he replied, which seemed surprising to me. It was the only human/vampire relationship I knew of that was extremely inappropriate. The majority of my subjects - I mean townsfolk - were very careful to keep their interactions with humanity businesslike and without emotion. "Though certainly, their so-called marriage is the worst of the transgressions I have seen. And certainly your allowing it to happen has made you appear weak to many of your loyal followers. But I am not speaking of only them. There is another relationship that you must also consider."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Please remember your place, dearest Oliver. You are welcome to advise, but only I will decide what it is I must consider."

He bowed deeply at me, but I noticed the amusement in his eyes. I found his insolence diminished his standing in my eyes, if only for a moment. "It is the relationship between your mad friend Myrnin and his assistant, Claire."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as it would only serve to make me look like a petulant child. "I have already handled that. He has been ordered to keep his distance. And while I will agree with you that Myrnin's feelings toward Miss Danvers are indeed not necessarily as... professional as I would like, I know him. Better than most of the members of our town. He will try to protect her, but deep down, Myrnin knows his affections are never returned and only end in death. If push came to shove and I truly wished it to be so, he would be on my side if forced to choose between the girl and myself."

Oliver gave me a blank stare. "Would you be willing to risk your life on that, dear Amelie?"

I lifted my chin to place my eyes at just higher than his and stared down my nose at him. "I have before, my darling. And I would trust my life with him far before I would trust it to anyone else in this town."

The darkness that rolled over his face was enough satisfaction to last me for quite some time.


	5. 5 - Oliver

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Blah, blah blah, I don't own any of this. =D If you're reading this chapter, thank you for sticking with me for so long. I will do my best to continue to make this story worth your time. As I always say, please read, please enjoy, and please, please, please review! Thank you. Much love! ~ Billie

OLIVER

The experiment I was performing with Amelie was proving to be a disappointment. With the amount of my blood she ingested in those few days where she lay dying - truly dying - she should have been hanging on my every word. And yet, still, she seemed to be resisting my pull on her blood. I have never liked being lorded over. I would have to try to alter my approach to her, encourage her to take more of me when we spent our time in my room.

In time, perhaps I would be able to convince her to feed from me solely. If that were the case, if only my blood ran through her veins, then I would be able to control her if not fully, then enough for her to still comply with my wishes when I deemed them important. If she could feed on just me, if I could become her life force, then she would... love me enough that only my feelings would matter. She was a woman, and women are notoriously foolish when they love.

Not that this was all a game. Certainly, there were moments where I began to feel as if perhaps there was something in me that was truly moved by her. She was beautiful, after all. And, even after all these years, she was still as regal in her stature now as she had been when she truly ruled from her throne. There was something in the lines of her body, in the way she held her head, or the way she touched me that caused something deep inside me to smolder. But I knew better than most the greatest of ways to force an enemy to let their guard down was to set their hearts on fire. Do that, and they will surely fall to ashes. And so when I felt that spark begin to ignite, I dashed it with the cold certainty that the time would soon come when she was no longer of use to me, and with the knowledge of what I would have to do when that time arrived.

Though, in the meantime, the intimacy the two of us shared was certainly pleasant.

I paced my office in the back of Common Grounds. I was a man of action. This standing and talking and pontificating was not something I enjoyed. While Amelie continued to heal, the managing of Morganville now rested mostly on my shoulders, and yet, my words had no meaning until Amelie verified them. I could encourage certain behaviors, enforce the laws that Amelie ratified, but I was still nothing more than a glorified underling.

I was not born to be an underling. Even when I was alive, I aspired to a much higher calling.

I could hear Eve prattling behind my counter. It was mere hours before I would be forced to fire her. I would be disappointed to do so; she was actually an extremely talented barista. However, her status as the human harlot who turned Michael Glass astray in the vampire world meant that I had fewer vampire customers entering my shop when she was behind the counter. Her status as a human traitor meant that I had fewer human customers coming through the door when she was behind the counter, not to mention graffiti and threats left at the employee entrance. The long story short was, no matter how good she was at her job, she was losing me money every moment she was behind my register. And the bottom line was the bottom line. She would have to be fired, it was simply good business sense. Truthfully, I would be lying if I said that some small part of me wouldn't enjoy the look on her face when it happened.

I spent my time waiting for Eve's shift to end by balancing the books for the coffee shop and checking the stack of resumes I kept on file in case one of my employees met with an unfortunate accident. I pulled out a few of the more recent ones and looked over job experience and references. I had no way of even knowing whether or not these individuals were still alive anymore, but at least it was a start. If it lead to a dead end, I would simply place a Help Wanted ad at the TPU campus. College students loved pouring coffee for money.

When the time finally came for Eve to get off work for the day, I waited for her to come clock out. My desk was arranged to give all the correct signals - it was clear of all but the three best resumes out of the stack. I had my datebook open in front of me with one interview already set for the next morning. I steepled my fingers together as I heard her steps down the hall and waited.

She entered, in some silly little outfit that she thought made her look daring and charming. I thought she simply looked foolish. It was a mockery of the fashion that real women wore in my time, a blood red bodice that looked a size too small, a black lace skirt that was torn and ragged as if she had been through some awful event but was simply made that way. She wore fishnet stockings and a pair of knee height boots with soles that much have been at least 3 inches tall. She looked like a mockery of a vampire. I began to feel better about firing her.

"Eve," I said quietly, "Take a seat."

She glanced at me and smirked. "I can't Oliver. I have to hurry home to my husband."

The word sent a flare of rage through my body, but I kept my face empty and my voice even. "It wasn't a question, Miss Ros-"

"Mrs. Glass," she corrected me. Ah yes. Now I had no concern at all about firing her.

"Yes. Whatever you like," I waved the comment off as if it had no meaning at all to me, and inwardly laughed as her shoulders drooped in disappointment. She had obviously been hoping to get a rise out of me, but that wasn't going to happen today. Today, I was entirely in control. "Please sit down, Missus Glass. I assure you, this won't take more than a moment of your time."

She eyed me warily and sat, perched on the front of the chair as if she were ready to jump up and run out of the door as soon as I was done with her. My, this could possibly be the most enjoyable part of my day.

"I'd like to first congratulate you on your... marriage," I began. I knew it didn't sound truthful, but it was, at least, something polite that I could squeeze out. And truthfully, I was glad she was married. She and Michael, the weakest vampire I had ever had the displeasure of creating, deserved each other. And they deserved the ostracization that was occurring now, as well.

Eve leaned back slightly in the chair, obviously feeling proud of herself for having forced Amelie's hand with her marriage ceremony. She linked her hands over her crossed legs and was careful to flash her ruby-studded wedding ring at me. "Why thank you, Oliver. I appreciate it," she said smugly.

Now it was my turn. I leaned back in the chair as well and placed one hand on the stack of resumes. I saw her eyes flick to them and then back to me. Suddenly, she didn't seem quite as smug as she had mere seconds ago. I gave her my best check-and-mate smile and continued. "Unfortunately, due to your recent life changes, I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go. You are free to choose to live your life as you like, but your presence here in Common Grounds is affecting my clientele and more importantly, my bottom line. I assure you, it's nothing personal, but - "

"The hell it's not personal!" Eve yelled, throwing herself so far forward in the chair that for a moment I thought she would throw herself to the floor. "You've been against this from day one and now you're using my marriage to Michael as an excuse to punish me!"

I kept my voice calm, knowing it would infuriate her more than if I raised it. "Now, Eve, calm down. I have to worry about what's best for the most people. I'm sorry I can't keep you on staff, I truly am. It's just that between the loss of customers when you're working and the threats of violence left in the employee area, you are a liability I can't afford to have. I do regret having to make this decision, Eve," I lied through my teeth, "And I assure you that I will provide you with an excellent reference should a prospective employer contact me."

The foolish little goth girl had fallen silent, her face flushed even beneath her pale face powder and her eyes brimming with tears. She was no longer leaning back in the chair, but curled in on herself as if something in her had broken. "But, Oliver," she replied, "You-" Her voice choked off and the first of what would surely be many tears fell from her eyes, smearing her heavy mascara down her cheek. "You know how hard it's going to be for me to find another job. You know how many people hate me right now."

I nodded and tried not to look too gloating. "I do, Eve. I know all too well. However, I have to make the decision that is right for both my business and my other employees, Miss R- I mean, Mrs. Glass. I can only offer you this - I will pay you for 10 hours next week, and will give you a letter of recommendation to show to future employers."

I could practically hear her heart breaking from behind my desk. "No thanks," she said as she defiantly stood up from the chair. "I don't need your false pity. And I don't need anything from you ever again. You are nothing more than a jackass and a bully, Oliver. And one day, someone's going to put you in your place."

"Yes, well, I doubt you'll be alive to see it," I replied calmly. "Now, if you'll see your way out, I have some phone calls to make."

I watched as she threw all of her items from her locker into her overly large purse and smiled as she stormed out the door. Then I leaned back in my chair and thought again of Amelie.


	6. 6 - Shane

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So... we all know the drill by now, yes? I don't own this, I wish I did. I would love to have you read, enjoy and review. It would truly make my day. Much love to you and yours this holiday season. ~Billie

SHANE

I was the one who faced the fall out. It was sheer dumb luck; Claire was at school taking some class or another on some topic I would never in a million years understand, and Michael was off doing whatever it was he did nowadays. I had just come off a short shift at the barbecue joint, and was enjoying my shower and washing the stink of barbecue sauce and woodsmoke from my hair when I heard the door shut. No, not shut, slam.

I heard feet pound up the steps and froze. The steps were light, feminine. But there was an urgency to them that made me nervous. I quickly shut off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist. I knelt down to palm the silver-tipped stake we kept in the bathroom for emergencies. And called out, "Hello?"

No answer. Damn. That was so not a good sign. I opened the door and almost had to get back in the shower as my bladder threatened to let loose. The woman standing in front of the door looked more like a ghost than Miranda did. "Oh _God,_ Shane!" Eve cried as she threw her arms around my bare chest. I dropped the stake on the floor and carefully wrapped my arms around her.

I felt kind of shocky. I had never seen Eve this bent out of shape before. And I mean never. Something had to have happened. Something bad. Something really bad. My breath caught in my throat. Michael? Had he been hurt? Claire? _Oh God_, I thought. _Please let Claire be okay_. I couldn't take it if she was taken from me again, promises or not.

"Eve," I said softly, patting her hair awkwardly. "Eve, whatever it is. It's gonna be okay. I've got you." I could feel her tears dripping down my chest as her body shook from the sobs wracking her body. "Eve," I tried again. "What happened?"

She didn't answer. I stood there, the cold air against my damp skin causing goosebumps to rise on my flesh. I suddenly felt very vulnerable, very awkward, standing in the hallway wearing nothing but a towel while one of my best friends wept in my arms. Time dragged by, and I had no idea what to do. I couldn't let her go, but the towel was slipping further and further down my waist the longer I stood here.

I tried again. "Eve, talk to me. What's happened? Is it Michael? Claire? Whatever it is, we'll fix it. I promise."

Eve leaned back, her face a contorted mask of human agony, her cheeks black with mascara and eyeliner. I had the feeling my chest would look the same. "No," she hiccupped as the sobs ended. "No, it's nothing like that," she said. I felt something in my chest relax, the gnawing hole of fear in my stomach easing.

"Then what?" I asked, keeping one hand on her arm as I hitched my towel up with the other.

"It's... it's... I got fired!" She cried out, and while my heart ached for her, I felt a fierce sense of relief. I'd been fired plenty of times before. It sucked, but not this badly. There had to be something more to it.

I steered her to my bedroom and sat her on the bed as I rummaged in my drawers for a pair of boxers and some jeans. She was collecting herself, and I tossed her one of my white t-shirts that I thought was possibly clean. She nodded and began to wipe her face off, turning to face the wall while I dressed. I rubbed as much of the goop she'd dripped all over my chest off on the towel and pulled on a t-shirt from my closet. I felt better clothed. Like now there was something I could actually do about the situation.

I sat on the bed beside her and she leaned over to rest her cheek against my shoulder. I looped an arm around her and held her while she got herself together. "It's just not fair," she began, blowing her nose on my t-shirt. I wasn't sure I wanted it back anymore. "Oliver said it's because of mine and Michael's marriage. He said it's because I hurt his bottom line. His _bottom line_, Shane! And then he fed me some bs about how he was sorry to have to let me go, but that I was a liability he just couldn't afford. Dammit, Shane, he made me feel bad! Like Michael and I getting married was somehow... wrong! Perverted! Like I should walk around with a scarlet letter on my chest!"

I gulped. That wasn't cool. I wasn't the biggest fan of vampires, hell, how could I be? But still, this was Mikey. He was a vampire, sure, but he wasn't like all the others. At least, I didn't think he was. At least, I kept telling myself he wasn't. "I'm... I'm sorry, Eve. I know it sucks. I know you loved working there. And I know you were great at your job. But it's okay. We'll make things work. We'll make things better. You can find another job, you know that."

But Eve was shaking her head. "No, Shane. Let's be serious. No one's going to hire me. Everyone in this entire town hates me - human and vampire alike. I'm some sort of social pariah. It's like, I'm not even a person anymore, just a symbol of everything everyone hates about this stupid town."

I didn't have anything to say to that. She was right. And as much as I hated to admit it, and though I'd never tell her, I completely understood why Oliver had fired her. If I were him, I'd go stand out in the sun and burn to ashes. But, if I were me and in his position, I would look after my business, and the first thing I'd do was get rid of anything that made my place in society less secure.

Morganville wasn't right. It was in a state of upheaval that I thought must have been reminiscent of those years after World War II, where no one felt safe and no one felt certain. I was afraid here. Not for the first time, but until now, it had been a specific kind of fear. I had known that at any time my life would end. And living in a place like Morganville for any long period of time, you begin to live with that fear, that fatalism.

But now, things were different. I had learned that much from my torture from the draug. I had people I cared about now, really cared about. And I knew a happy ending wasn't in the books for me. At least, not like I'd dreamed. All I could do now was fight for every day I could. I would hold on to the hope that things would get better as long as I could - not just for my own sanity, but for those around me, too. I didn't know what I would do, but I made myself a promise right then and there. That this would be the last time I had to hold my friend while her heart broke over something a vampire had done.

There were things worth fighting for. And though I'd never realized it before, one of those things was Morganville.


	7. 7 - Naomi

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yep. I don't own it. A note - I'm not sure how the story line of Bitter Blood runs, as I have yet to read it. So please forgive me if I mess up whatever Caine has written with my own shenanigans. Please, please, please read. Please, please, please enjoy. Please, please, please review. Thank you so much. Much love! ~Billie

NAOMI

He came to me, as I knew he would. He was still wearing the foolish clothes he wore when interacting with humanity, a veritable wolf in sheep's clothing. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, a foolish, child-like smile. It was full of innocence, full of hope. Oh how I loved those smiles. No one ever smiled at my dear sister Amelie that way. No, they reserved those looks specifically for me.

"Hello, my mistress," he said with that same stupid look of childlike joy on his face.

"Hello, my darling Oliver. How are you this evening?" He seemed... conflicted for a moment, as if his true feelings were beginning to show through. Well, I would put a stop to that. I pushed my powers against him a little stronger, and the confusion melted away. "You're doing well, aren't you?"

"Yes, my mistress. I am doing very well. You are looking especially lovely this evening."

"Why thank you, dear." You had to love those of older stock. They had a truer breeding, and remembered their manners, even when under mental force. "Have you done as I asked?"

"Yes, my mistress. I..." he paused again, and I pushed ever so slightly harder. This one certainly had a will of his own, but I was unconcerned. He would bend to my will, or I would break him with it. It mattered nought to me. "I fired the harlot. Just as you asked. I broke her spirit, just as you asked. I forced her to question her love of her vampiric husband, just as you asked." He didn't sound pleased when he told me, but his pleasure was of no concern to myself.

"Excellent," I said with a smile. I reached out and stroked his lined face. "Well done, my darling. Soon, it will all be over, and we will reign together, as king and queen. And our human cattle will be of only the highest stock."

"Yes," he agreed dreamily, leaning in to my hand. "We shall rule, side by side, and our power shall be felt throughout all the world."

"Yes," I replied, pressing a bit further into his foolish, arrogant mind. Those who were certain of themselves we always the easiest to break. Any idea they had, they thought only they were brilliant enough to come up with it. "Now, for the next step in our program. We must continue our battle on another front. Tell me darling, who does she love?"

"Me," he replied softly, that look of confusion back on his face, as if he were uncertain.

"Yes, of course she does. But who else? Who does she trust?"

His face took on a blank look. Thinking. This was why I hated having to use so much of my power. It bent them to my will, but it also made them function at a much slower speed than if I could simply... suggest. Finally, his face brightened. "Myrnin," he said. "She trusts Myrnin."

I pursed my lips. Myrnin. I knew the damned fool, of course. I had never truly understood why my sister felt so fondly for him. "Yes, well. We will have to take care of that."

"I have been trying," he murmured. "That beast must be chained," he said softly.

"So you have spoken about him with her, then?"

"Yes. Just today. I encouraged her to take a stronger hand with him."

"Did she agree?" I asked gently.

He furrowed his brow. "Not necessarily," he replied. "She... she told me she was handling it. I didn't believe her, though."

"Well, you should ignore him for now," I said softly. "Let her let her guard down about him. And then, perhaps he will suffer a tragic accident within his lab. Not now," I reinforced as he grinned at the idea of violence. "Too soon after your suggestion could lead her to suspect you. Give it a few weeks. And then, then you will take him. Be sure to make it look like an accident. A fire, perhaps."

"Yes," he replied in that same childlike tone of wonder and joy. It would bring a shiver to a sane person. "A fire."

"And now, what you have come here for." I held out my wrist as he fell to the ground before me. He took it in his hands as if it were made of glass, and waited for me to nod my permission before he fed. He groaned with pleasure as he partook of my blood, and I looked away, distancing myself from his obvious enjoyment. His behavior was so... distasteful when he fed. It was over in minutes.

He bowed before me, my blood still coating his lips. "Thank you my mistress," he said softly. "It is the greatest of honors to be given your blood."

"Yes, my dear Oliver. Clean yourself up." He did as I commanded with no hesitation. "And now, it is time for you to leave me."

"But, my mistress. I wish to remain here, by you. Always."

"And you will, my dearest servant. You will. When all of this is done." I hated this part. The endless reassurance, the childish complaints of having to be separated. It was irritating and exhausting. "But first, we must achieve our goal. Don't fear, it will be a few months more at the very most. And then, then you and I will have eternity."

He nodded as my words sank in. "Yes, my mistress. All of eternity."

I patted his face, and reminded him that he would forget our meeting. That all ideas he had were ones he had come up with on his own. That though he loved Amelie, he must be prepared to do what was right for the town as a whole. He bid me farewell, and swore that he would not fail me. I certainly hoped that was true. I would hate to have to start over again with someone else. I had waited for decades to rule this town, and the end was in sight. I would not fail. I could not. To fail could mean death.


	8. 8 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I've been obsessively checking my read stats for this, and would like to thank those of you who have stuck with me this long. It's become a bit of an obsession, getting this out onto paper. It's been in my head for so long, and it's been wanting to be written for so long now. So I'm not going to throw any threats out about not finishing it if I don't get reviews. But I will say this. The more feedback I have from you guys, the more it encourages me to write. The more encouraged I am to write, the more writing I actually do. See what I did there? Seeing that people are viewing it is great fun, but knowing what you THINK about it? That's even better. So please, continue to read. Please, continue to (hopefully) enjoy. And PLEASE take the time to write a review. I'll accept ANYTHING, even just a smiley face or a frowny face. Also, I'm aware that these chapters aren't terribly long, but I want this story to be told from all the important points of view. Please keep that in mind. And please, if you like my story, favorite or follow it. I love the encouragement those little numbers give me! Thanks. Much love to you and yours! ~ Billie

CLAIRE

The last two weeks had been hell in the Glass House. Eve was still moping about like a lost puppy since losing her job, Michael was facing an inordinate amount of pressure from the vampires about his marriage to Eve, and it seemed as if the whole town was turning against them. The grocery stores had begun refusing Eve and Michael service, and they were beginning to eye Claire and Shane with quite a bit of suspicion, as well.

The group was now more or less living off of food brought home from Shane's work, and though barbecue was delicious, it was getting old. The worst part was, Shane had noticed that a few of the folks his dad used to run around with were beginning to get pretty chummy with his boss, and while his boss had never treated Shane with any sort of disrespect, the whole house was beginning to be concerned that Shane's job, and thus the source of most of their food, was in jeopardy. Something had to give.

Michael assured them that it was all going to be okay, that things would work out. He kept insisting that it was all due to stress from the draug, and fear of Amelie's new style of leading. He insisted that there was growing pressure from each side and that eventually things would level out.

Claire wasn't so easily convinced, and neither were Shane or Eve. Claire wasn't about to share her "insider info" with either of them, but Miranda claimed that Michael had received some visitors of the fangy persuasion on more than one occasion while the others were out of the house. And from what she could discern, things were going to get much, much worse before they began to get better.

And meanwhile, across the street, the house that Claire's newest professor, Dr. Daybourne was building, had continued to develop. Claire and Eve sat in the front lawn together, laid out in their shorts and tank tops hoping to get a little Vitamin A, when the painters arrived. "Wow," Eve said. "They're already painting the place? What busy little worker bees."

"Yeah," Claire said disappointedly. She had done everything she could to try to convince Dr. Daybourne to continue to live in staff housing on the campus like the rest of the professors, but had been severely slapped down. I lived in a dormitory when I went to college, she had said, And I will never live in one again.

Eve looked over her black and silver skull and crossbones decorated sunglasses and met Claire's eyes. "I know it sucks, CB. And it sucks even more because you actually know this person, and at least kinda like her. But think of it this way - at least she's nearby. You can keep an eye out on her, maybe offer her some help. And we'll help keep her safe, Claire. You know we will."

Claire bit her lower lip in a worried manner. "But, I mean, what's going to happen to her? To all the people who are moving in?"

Eve sighed and stared across the street, though Claire could tell she wasn't really looking at the house. "They're all going to do exactly what we've been doing all this time," she replied, "Survive. Or die trying."

It was at about that time that a car pulled into the driveway of the new house. Claire wasn't surprised when she saw Dr. Daybourne climb out. Eve had never seen the woman before, and even though Claire had seen her almost every week day for the last two weeks, she had to admit that this was a very different looking Dr. Daybourne than the one who stood in front of her seat each day and taught her theories and equations.

She still had her dark red hair up in a messy bun, but the old lady outfits were gone. Instead, she wore something that even old ladies would insist was out of fashion. She wore an ankle-length dress of a shimmering green material. It looked... hot, and not the attractive kind. As she stepped out of the car, she straightened the wrist-length sleeves on it and stood gazing at the front of her house.

The doctor made quite the oxymoron standing in front of the house Claire had learned she had designed herself. The house looked as if it could have been a piece of modern art. It appeared to be a study of angles and light. She had once read a book about an architect named Frank Gehry, and this house looked like it would fit right in with his other works. It contained a huge amount of custom-looking work throughout its structure - long, metallic curlicues and feminine lines. Each piece that had been added to the building had been more and more strange and shocking, but now that it was complete, Claire had to acknowledge that it was beautiful in a strange, disconcerting kind of way.

"Woah." Eve commented as she looked at the doctor. "So totally not what I was expecting."

"Yeah," Claire replied. "She's definitely... eclectic."

Eve laughed. "I think that's putting it mildly. Oh look! She sees us!" Eve waved at the young woman, who gracefully crossed the newly-turfed lawn to make her way across the street.

"Why, hello Miss Danvers," Dr. Daybourne said with a grin. Despite the heat of the sun, she didn't appear to be sweating at all. "Do you live here?" She gestured to the Glass House behind Claire and Eve.

"Hello Dr. Daybourne," Claire replied. "Yes ma'am, I do. This is my roommate, Eve Glass."

Dr. Daybourne eyed Eve with interest. She made note of Eve's hyper-goth look (she had responded to the hostility throughout the town by acting out even more than usual) and smiled. "Hello Miss Glass. It's a pleasure to meet you." She extended her hand.

Eve shook it with great enthusiasm. It was probably the first time in months that someone other than Claire, Shane, or Michael had shown any kindness to her at all. "It's Mrs. Glass," Eve corrected her, "But please, call me Eve. Claire Bear here has said so many things about you."

"Ah, yes. Well, filthy lies, all of it," Dr. Daybourne replied. "Unless of course, they were kind things, in which case all of them are true." Her eyes twinkled, yet there was still that sense of something not quite right behind them.

Eve and Claire both laughed politely. "Your house is beautiful," Claire said. And Eve nodded in agreement.

"Why thank you," the doctor replied. "It's been a dream of mine for years to have a home that was created by my own two hands, so I decided that when I got the chance, I would go overboard with it. I do so love Art Nouveau. The beauty of those curving lines is simply breathtaking."

"Yes," Eve said with a smile. "It definitely is."

They stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Dr. Daybourne cleared her throat. "Well, I suppose I will head back over to the house. The painters are supposed to be finished by this evening, and I should be able to move my things in tomorrow. Thank goodness," she continued, "I am terribly tired of living in the faculty housing."

"Yeah," Eve said, and Claire could hear the discomfort in Eve's words. "Uh, has anyone told you about the... leaders of this town yet?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Well, I know there are some very specific rules that must be followed here in Morganville, and that I will be assigned a sort of contact to ensure that I am following them," she replied. "However, I'm not certain how I feel about that. My home is my home, and I am planning to follow the laws as written when in public, though what I do in my own home is rather my business. Is that what you mean?"

"Um, kind of," Claire added.

Eve grinned. "Hey, you said you're moving in tomorrow? How about we have you over for dinner? Sort of a 'Welcome to the neighborhood' party? We can talk more about Morganville's... eccentricities then."

Dr. Daybourne studied Eve's face for a few moments, then nodded her agreement. "I would appreciate that," she said with an easy smile. "I'm afraid it will be a day or two before I can make it to the store, so I will have to survive on fast food until then."

Eve grinned and offered her hand to Dr. Daybourne again. "That sounds excellent," she replied. "Let's say, six o'clock."

Dr. Daybourne shook Eve's hand. "Six o'clock sounds excellent, Mrs. Gl - I mean, Eve. And I look forward to seeing you, as well, Miss Danvers."

Claire timidly waved goodbye as the woman crossed the street and headed into the house. "Way to go, Eve. Now I have to deal with my professor even in my own house."

"Hey," Eve said with a grin as she sat back down in her lawn chair, "You wanted to make sure she's safe. It's best for us to give her the straight skinny as soon as possible. And besides, someone needs to look after her. She's obviously insane."

Claire was about to ask Eve what she meant when she suddenly realized what the look in Dr. Daybourne's eyes was. It was madness. The same madness she saw in her boss, Myrnin's eyes.


	9. 9 - Eve

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for still reading! I'm totally hoping that means you're enjoying this and not laughing at me behind my back. But either way, I'm enjoying writing it! As always, please read, please enjoy, please review. I need the little reviews! I need them or I will explode! That happens to me sometimes. I still don't own any of this. That hasn't changed and probably won't. Either way, much love from me to you! ~ Billie

EVE

I was standing in the kitchen, staring at the sink. I couldn't remember what I'd come in here for, or even when I'd come in here. All I knew is I was here now. I didn't even know what time it was. Damn. I was so sick of this stupid haze I was in all the time. It was stupid, jackass Oliver's fault. How could he even think about firing me? I was the only one who always showed up on time, I was the only one who never needed repeat customers to tell me their orders. I knew the name of every one of the regulars and what time they came in. I usually had their damn drink finished the minute they walked in the door!

I slammed my fists down on the counter, then realized that wasn't the best of ideas as they began to ache. But whatevs. I was totes tired of feeling second class just because I was married to Michael. It's not even like he was a different species than me! If anything, it was like he had some kind of a disease, only instead of being fatal, it was... some big word that meant made him live forever. Claire would know what I meant. And besides, it didn't matter even if Michael was a different species. We loved each other, and true love conquered all. Hah. Not in Morganville, it didn't.

Still, it wasn't like I was some kind of different person now that Michael and I were married. I mean, I guess I kind of was, but not so much that people could suddenly turn around and hate me. I was still me - happy, bubble gum goth Eve. But apparently, that only mattered to my friends, and, like everything else good in life, friends were hard to come by here in Morganville. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes again, which just made me even madder. I was a newly married woman. I wasn't supposed to spend every day crying my eyes out! I was supposed to spend every day making out with my super-hot new husband!

"Eve?" A quiet, child-like voice came from behind me. I spun, startled, and saw Miranda standing nervously in the middle of the kitchen floor. At least now I knew it was the middle of the night.

"Oh, 'Randa. Hey. You scared me."

"Sorry," she replied. "It's just, well, I was sitting in the parlor trying not to bother you, but you've been in here for almost an hour, and there's just not that much to keep me entertained in the parlor."

My heart broke, just a little. Miranda was totally a creepazoid, but it wasn't really her fault. Being able to see the future when she was alive had definitely stunted her social growth, and now that she was dead and trapped in the house for the rest of eternity, it wasn't helping her learn how to hang with people any better. "It's cool, chicky," I replied with a grin. "Have a seat. I was just in here doing some serious self-analyzation, and you know that's never very fun for very long."

Miranda smiled shyly and pulled out a chair. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"About what?" I asked, taking the seat across from her.

"About.. well, all the stuff you've been going through. I mean, it's not like I've ever gone through the stuff you have, but... you know. I know what it's like to feel like you're not good enough, or like no one likes you." My heart broke a little bit more. Dammit, of course she knew what it was like. The poor kid had been much worse off than me in almost every way possible. At least I had Michael, and Shane and Claire. Sure, she had us, too, but never like we did. We were like family. And she was like, the neighbor we only invited over to our parties so she wouldn't call the cops on us if the music was too loud. "Anyway," she continued, using her small finger to trace invisible shapes on the table in front of her, "I just wanted to let you know. If you ever need to talk, I'm here."

"Oh Miranda!" I said, louder than I probably should have with people sleeping in the house. "Thank you," I lowered my voice. "I mean, it's just that now that Michael and I are married, we should be happy, you know? And, with everything going on, it feels like maybe we're going to have to give up on... us." There were the damn tears again. I stood and grabbed a paper towel off the counter before sitting back down. "And I don't want to give up on us, Miranda. I just... I just want us to be able to be happy. Is that so much to ask?"

Miranda watched me with sad eyes far too old for her years. "No, Eve. Happiness isn't too much to ask. It's never too much to ask. It's just, that sometimes, even though we ask for things, we can't have them. No matter how hard we try."

"Yeah. I know. That's what I'm scared of."

Miranda's lower lip trembled. "That's what I'm scared of, too, Eve. That you guys won't be happy, and then you'll leave, and I'll be all alone. I know that's really selfish, Eve, but I just couldn't stand it if I was left all alone, walking around this old, empty house. Forever."

And now, suddenly, my problems seemed a lot less big. I reached out and took her cool, small hand in mine. "Never, Miranda. We will never leave you here alone." But even as I said it, I wasn't so certain I could keep my promise. Chances were, one day she would be left here, alone forever. Eventually Claire would leave for MIT, and Shane, if he survived the time up to that, would leave with her come hell or high water. That would leave Michael and I. And, well, I would eventually grow old and die, if I didn't meet my end at some stranger's fangs in a dark alley first. And that would end our family line. It wasn't like we could have kids or anything.

And that would leave Michael. My beautiful Michael. Forever frozen at 18, forever beautiful, with swift, nimble fingers that could make a guitar sing like no one I had ever heard. Here, alone, in this old, run down house that had held his family for decades. I wondered if, when everything around him was gone, he would still sing the songs he wrote for me. God, I hoped he would.

Damn, thinking about the future had never been so depressing. And that's saying a lot.

Across from me, Miranda had fallen silent, too, staring at the wooden table in front of her. "Hey," I said, and she looked up at me. "Have you ever seen The Princess Bride before?"

"Um... no, I don't think so," she replied carefully.

"Girl. You do not know what you're missing. Cary Elwes in his prime? Totally droolworthy. And totally one of the most quotable movies ever. Tell you what. I'll make some popcorn. You grab a couple of sodas, and we'll have an impromptu movie night, just the two of us."

Miranda's face lit up. "Okay, Eve. That sounds like a great idea." She jumped into action and as I grabbed a bag of popcorn out of the cabinet and tossed it in the microwave, I hoped that maybe, just like Westley and Buttercup, Michael and I would one day have a happy ending.


	10. 10 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi! Welcome back! Glad you could join me. As has been stated NINE times now, I don't own any of this. But that's okay, because I'm having fun with it anyway! As always, I would absolutely love it if you would read, enjoy, and review. It makes me so happy to read reviews. Also, please remember to favorite or follow the story if you dig it! As always, much love. ~ Billie

CLAIRE

Dropping the grocery bags in the kitchen floor, Claire took a deep breath. She had never in her life been as embarrassed as she had been this afternoon. When she'd gotten home, Shane had wasted absolutely no time heading out to Eve's car to grab the rest of the groceries, and now as he walked in behind her carrying the last of them, he dropped them and pulled her close to him. Even the warmth of his body so close to hers didn't fully dissipate the dark cloud hanging over her.

He sighed heavily, no doubt noticing the stiffness in her stance, and kissed the top of her head. "What happened?"

Pursing her lips and snatching the first bag off the floor, she tossed it on the counter before answering, "You mean what didn't happen," she growled.

"Let me," he said, steering her to the kitchen table. "Before you break something. Now. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

Claire sighed heavily and swallowed down the urge to scream. When she spoke, her voice was still shaky with anger. "So, I went to the grocery store to get the stuff," she began, "And when I pulled into the parking lot, the clerk took one look out the window and walked over and switched the sign on the door to Closed."

Shane stopped and turned around to lean on the counter. "You're freaking kidding me."

Clare laughed, and even to her ears it sounded a little hysterical. "I wish I was. He even locked the door, even though there were still people shopping inside. So I turned around and got back in the car. Then, I headed to the other grocery store, and when I got there, the girl behind the counter did the exact same thing to me."

Shane's jaw was now clenched and his hands, which started out resting lightly on the counter, were clenched at his side. "I can't believe that," he snarled. "They can't just starve us into betraying our friends like that. It's bullshit."

Claire nodded. That was certainly one way of describing it.

"So, how did we end up with groceries?" he asked after a long pause.

Claire shrugged. "I went to campus."

"They have a grocery store on campus? I didn't know that."

"They don't," Claire said, her face flushing with remembered shame. "But I knew Monica had a class today."

Shane frowned. "Monica Morrell? What does she have to do with getting groceries?"

Claire closed her eyes. She didn't want to see his face when she told him the rest of the story. "I made a deal with her. I'm helping her write her final for English, and in exchange, she went to the store and bought our groceries for us. I paid her the money for them, of course. But I just gave her a list and waited for her back on campus."

Shane was silent. Claire rested her head in her hands and relived the whole embarrassing experience. She recalled Monica's wary eyes as Claire approached her. They would never be friends, but at least they weren't enemies anymore. When Claire had explained the situation, Monica had smirked and told her she wasn't surprised. Most of the people in town didn't see Claire as anything more than a puppet for the vampires, especially with all the strain of Amelie's slowly tightening rule. And of course, just about everyone hated Eve and Michael right now.

Still, Monica hadn't given her too much flack for asking for help. It seemed that Richard's death hadn't necessarily softened her as a person, but had made her a bit more willing to care about others' lives. At least, she cared more about Claire's. Maybe Richard had been right. Maybe Monica was capable of being a better person than she had been in the past. Then again, it wasn't the first time that when push came to shove, Monica had pulled through for Claire. And Claire still wasn't sure how she felt about it.

She heard Shane sigh and opened her eyes, surprised to see him sitting beside her. She hadn't even heard him move. He took her hands in his, and pressed his forehead against hers. "It's okay, Claire. It's not our fault that people in this town are total assholes."

Claire felt her lower lip tremble. It was so awful. Why couldn't people just stop thinking of Morganville as a place that was Them versus Us and judge each person, human or vampire, by their actions? Claire had never done anything to hurt anyone in the town. Neither had Michael. Claire could understand the vampires being leery of both Shane and Eve, but neither of them had ever done anything really serious, either. Sometimes, she wished she could just leave the whole place behind and start over somewhere new. But only if she could take Shane, Michael, Eve, and now Miranda with her.

And Myrnin. She couldn't leave him behind, either. Could she?

"Just... we can't tell Eve," Claire whispered. "She's so miserable already." She felt Shane nod against her.

"Agreed. And not Michael, either. He'd just run off to try to fix things, and only end up making it worse."

"Agreed."

"This will just stay between the two of us," Shane said, leaning forward and kissing her gently on the lips. "And don't worry. We'll try to figure something out before the next time we need groceries. We can't have you doing all of Monica's school work for her."

Claire smiled sadly. Somehow, Shane could always make her feel better, no matter how awful things seemed. It was one of the millions of reasons why she loved him. He gently kissed her again, pulling her into his lap so that he could wrap his long, muscular arms around her. The kiss was slow, soft, and delicious, but it held a heat that slowly drove her crazy. The longer he kissed her, gently, teasingly, the more Claire thought she was going to explode. Yet, she couldn't get enough. She nestled closer to him and shivered as his hands slid under her shirt and up her bare back.

And in that moment, the groceries were the farthest thing from her mind.


	11. 11 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Moving forward. So far, since I started this, I've been posting multiple chapters daily. That's gonna come to an end for the next few days - Thanksgiving and all that. So... just a warning that there may be few or no updates after today until the weekend or possibly even the beginning of next week. Please don't forget about me! As always, I own nothing, which totally makes me butthurt. As always, it would warm my heart if you would read, enjoy, and review. Much love! ~ Billie

CLAIRE

Eve sat on the kitchen table, her legs pulled up in what had been called Indian Style when Claire had been in elementary school. "I still don't get why I can't help," she complained, taking a huge swallow of Coke. "You have to admit, I've gotten much better at cooking."

Shane stood at the stove, stirring the chili he'd had simmering all day. It smelled absolutely delicious, and Claire couldn't help but smile at how domestic he had become since her stay at Glass House had first started. "I'll admit, Eve," he said with a smile. "You can cook a mean hot dog and a killer peanut butter sandwich."

"Hey. My grilled cheese sandwiches have come a long way, too," she protested.

Claire glanced at the clock again, for what must have been the thousandth time. It was still moving forward, closer and closer to the time when Dr. Daybourne would be arriving. Claire fidgeted and continued to toss the salad they had picked up specifically for the evening. While the Glass House residents weren't necessarily big salad people, Eve knew enough about hosting guests to suggest having a salad, as well as some hors devours.

It was strange that Eve would be more nervous about the doctor visiting than Claire, but Claire guessed it made sense - Eve was a people person, and she had been starved for attention for months. While Dr. Daybourne wasn't necessarily the most exciting of guests, she had been kind to Eve, and right now, that meant a lot to her.

And, because Claire and Shane and Michael all understood that fact, they were letting Eve indulge a bit. So yes, the Glass House was hosting an actual dinner party, to be served on Michael's inherited china plates, with Michael's inherited silver serving pieces, with all the members of the house dressing in semi-formal wear. It was all slightly amusing to Claire, who didn't quite understand how chili could possibly be served as the main course of a fancy dinner, but it was kind of cute how hard Eve was trying.

The hors devours consisted of Ritz crackers, thick sliced cheese, and diced dried meats. Claire had no idea whether or not it actually counted as an hors devours plate, but Eve insisted that she had searched it online and it was perfectly acceptable, so the others had simply shrugged as Eve had carefully placed each and every piece on the silver serving platter that had been in the Glass House's basement for probably an eternity.

Claire had to admit it was kind of fun preparing for the dinner with her professor, even if they were behaving as if she were a visiting dignitary and not just a new neighbor. Although, it was definitely possible that the doctor would expect that sort of treatment. She didn't seem to be a terribly casual person.

As Eve evacuated her seat on the dining room table and began to set the places for dinner, Michael came into the kitchen, freshly showered. He smelled delicious, but then again, Michael was definitely the sort of person one would expect to smell good just by looking at him. He was terribly handsome, and Claire appreciated him in the same kind of way one would appreciate a fine work of art. There wasn't the same pull that she experienced when she looked at Shane, but he was definitely hot. In that he's-my-best-friend's-husband kind of way.

He looked around the kitchen and smiled when he saw the hors devours, the salad, and the chili. He helped Eve finish setting the table and kissed her gently when they finished. "This looks beautiful, Eve," he said with an amused grin. "I'm sure Dr. Daybourne will appreciate all the trouble you've gone through to make her feel welcome."

Eve bit her lip. "I hope so," she replied. "She seems kind of cool, in that whole, 'I'm super crazy so look out for me,' kind of way."

Shane and Claire's eyes met. Claire shrugged. "Yeah. We think she might be a bit off in the head."

"Well," Shane said with a smirk, "That doesn't surprise me. Anyone who'd be willing to move to Morganville can't be all there."

The group nodded in agreement, and each of them set about getting things finished up in the kitchen as the clock quickly counted down the minutes until the doctor's arrival. By the time six o'clock rolled around, they were all finished and sitting in the living room. Shane and Michael were playing a zombie shooting game, and Claire was trying to get some of her reading done for class. Eve was simply sitting, staring at the front door. When the knock came, Eve jumped up. The knee-length black lace dress she had worn for the occasion bounced as she stood, and she straightened out the crinoline liner underneath before heading to the door. The giant blood red silk rose she had clipped to the side of her hair bounced as she walked. Shane clicked the tv off.

Eve opened the door with a huge grin on her face, and opened her mouth to invite the doctor in. And that was when all hell broke loose.

It happened quickly, so quickly that Claire wasn't sure what was actually happening until it was all over. Doctor Daybourne stepped into the house, once again dressed in her usual not-quite-right manner. Today, she looked almost Elizabethan, wearing a pale mauve bodice with full length sleeves and a long flowing skirt that touched the ground and made her feet invisible. She carried in her hand a bottle of something that looked like champagne, or maybe wine.

Michael stood and walked to the door with a polite smile on his face, as he welcomed Dr. Daybourne into his home. And then, without warning, there was another body at the door. It was as if Doctor Daybourne had suddenly disappeared, only to be replaced by a tall, panicked looking man wearing -

"Oh, no," she thought. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

Because there was only one man in Morganville, and probably the entire world, who would be wearing fleece Hello Kitty pajama pants and a Hawaiian shirt.

He was a portrait of madness. His eyes bulged out of his head, and his normally handsome face was blackened with soot and worse. "Help!" He screamed. "Help me!" And he ran back off the way he had come - through the portal on the wall of their entryway.

Everyone froze. Doctor Daybourne was sprawled on the floor, her dress splayed around her to show pale, dainty, bare feet. "My word," she said quietly. "What was that?"

No one said anything. And then they smelled it. Smoke. Thick, oily, chemical-tainted smoke was beginning to drift through the still-open portal. And suddenly, Claire's shocked brain registered what that meant. The lab. It was burning. She leaped into action, running across the floor with no second thoughts. The lab was burning. All those books, all of her and Myrnin's hard work, Bob the spider, and... Myrnin. Myrnin was back in there. "You heard him," she yelled, "Help!"

Her words jolted everyone else into action, even Doctor Daybourne. The four housemates and their guest launched themselves through the portal and searched through the smoke for where Claire's crazy boss had disappeared to. It didn't take long. He was frantically pulling at a large metal door that was normally tucked into the stone wall. The smoke was gaggingly strong here, the smell of God knew what chemicals Myrnin had been working with making her lungs burn and her eyes water.

Michael ran to the door, helping Myrnin seal off the area of his lab that housed Frank, Morganville's resident blood-drinking brain center. And then, the evacuation started. Shane, ever prepared, ran back through the portal to their living room and returned moments later with a fire extinguisher, setting himself up to attempt to keep the fire from spreading, at least temporarily. It was impossible for him to put it out - the fire had obviously started near the door and was moving like a living thing, devouring stacks of books, old paper, and everything else in its path. "Grab the stuff!" Shane screamed. "I can't keep it from spreading for long!"

Myrnin grabbed Eve and yelled something at her. She ran off to grab a stack of thick, old-looking journals and ran back through the portal. Claire was sent to grab her own notebooks, Michael and Myrnin simply grabbed an entire bookshelf and began to lug it through the portal to the safety of Glass House. As Claire came through the portal, Shane was hot on her heels. He passed through just as the flames began to engulf the wall of the portal. The heat was intense, and the smoke was thick even here in the house.

Eve, keeping a surprisingly cool head in such an intense situation, did a head count. "Everyone's - Oh god. Doctor Daybourne!" The group all turned back, just as the woman stepped through the portal, carrying a large glass tank. Bob the spider. The portal snapped closed behind her, and Claire was shocked. The doctor looked far too composed to have just run through flames barefoot. Her hair was still at least kind of up, and she had a look on her face that was somewhere between amusement and confusion, as if perhaps all of this had been some sort of favorite pastime here in Morganville.

She gently sat the tank holding Myrnin's giant pet spider down on the coffee table and straightened her scorched dress. "My," she said in a hollow voice. "That is certainly the most unexpected welcome I have ever had the pleasure of receiving."

"Welcome to Morganville," Shane muttered, his voice hoarse from the smoke. He coughed a thick, phlegmy sounding cough, then stood and walked up the stairs, presumably to spit whatever he'd coughed up into the toilet.

Claire was still staring at the doctor. "How did you find your way back?" She asked. "The smoke was far too thick for you to have been able to see the... door. We thought you were a goner."

Dr. Daybourne shrugged. "The nice flat black and white man showed me," she replied, as if this was a perfectly acceptable answer.

Myrnin grinned, but it was empty of feeling. "Who would have guessed Frank would have a soft spot for innocent women trapped in burning buildings? Certainly not me."

Eve frowned. "Just what the hell was that, Myrnin? One of your experiments get out of control?"

Upstairs, the shower turned on. Shane was apparently intent on washing off, and that sounded like a truly brilliant idea to Claire. Michael was opening the windows and turning on the ceiling fans, trying to clear the air of the smoke that had drifted through.

"No," Myrnin replied, staring at the meager pile of items the group had managed to save. "At least, I don't think so," he continued. "It's all very... confused in my head. I was warming myself up some dinner when suddenly I smelled gasoline, and then smoke. I am fairly certain I was firebombed."

Doctor Daybourne glanced back at the wall, which was now just a wall. "Should we call the fire department?" she asked. "Certainly that wall will not hold the flames."

Everyone fell silent. "Um, no," Claire said with a forced cheerfulness, "Everything will be fine, I promise."

The doctor seemed to consider this for a few moments, then nodded. "Well, certainly you know more about the situation than I. Now, the smell of gasoline would lead me to believe it was probably some sort of homemade Molotov Cocktail. Certainly the best kind of quick, cheap firebomb. Was there anything important left behind? Anyone, perhaps?"

Myrnin was staring at the rescued items again. The bookcase he and Michael had pulled through had fallen on its side and the books were spilled out throughout the entry way. "Yes," Myrnin replied quietly. "A great many things of great importance were lost. _Centuries_ of work. Gone in an instant."

Claire didn't know what to do. And it was clear no one else did, either. Myrnin slumped to the floor, his long, thin fingers tracing the cover of one of the leather-bound journals Eve had brought through. "Well," the doctor said in a voice that suggested she knew what it was like to lose something of great importance. "I suppose that means you must start anew."

"Yes," Myrnin said softly, his voice cracking in sadness. "I must start anew."

Claire's mind seemed to take a snapshot of the scene. Myrnin, kneeling on the floor, tears in his eyes, broken in spirit, if not in body. Eve, her hands clasped at her waist and her face a picture of worry and fear, Michael behind her with his hand on her shoulder. Claire imagined she must look as heartsick as the others. And standing before them all, her face a mixture of pain and interest, was Doctor Daybourne in her Victorian style dress. Claire wondered just what her story was. It was obvious that she had experienced something traumatic in her life, and that she felt all too well the pain that Myrnin was now feeling. But at the same time, there was something in her eyes, a light that Myrnin often had when he was on the verge of discovering something that was reckless, and insane, and yet brilliant.


	12. 12 - Myrnin

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once more, thank you for your continued support and for keeping me encouraged to write this story. I feel like in the last chapter, things started getting real. I hope you felt the same. So... as far as I've read in the series, we've never had a chapter from Myrnin's POV. I don't know if that changes in Bitter Blood or not, and I probably won't know until well after the holiday season - I'm saving all my love for - 1. This fan fiction (and I don't want it to get messed up if I start reading BB) and 2. The next Dresden Files novel, Cold Days by Jim Butcher, which comes out on November 27th. Mark that date on your calendar, kids. It's definitely a day of celebration. So, forgive me if this chapter isn't cool enough, or crazy enough, or... whatever enough for you, but it's how I think Myrnin's brain would work. If you have any tips for me, let me know. Please read. Please enjoy. Please review. Much love! ~ Billie

MYRNIN

It was gone. All of it. It had been there, I _knew_ it had been there. I had seen it, and smelled it and touched it and tasted it for so long that I knew it was there. And then there was a flash of light, the same kind of light I felt go off in my mind when I discovered the answer to a particularly puzzling question. And then there was fire. The white-hot fire. It was like the lab had finally become me, burning up inside with this fire of passion and this need to just... devour the things I loved. And then suddenly everything was gone. And I was gone with it.

No. No, I wasn't gone. I was here, on the floor of a room I suddenly didn't remember, with strangers standing all around me. Except - Claire. Claire was here. If Claire was here and I was here then we would be okay. She would keep my mind safe. She would keep my heart safe. I loved her so deeply, because I knew she would never love me back. She had only eyes for that boy, the one who was like me and not like me all at the same time. He was gentle and fierce and strong and weak and he needed Claire and I was gentle and fierce and strong and weak and I needed her. But she liked the way he needed her more. She liked the way that he ached for her and longed for her and the way that his love devoured her slowly through soft kisses and gentle touches.

My love would literally devour her. And it would be a swift, painful death. If I were given the chance I would hold her and touch her and kiss her and then without any warning my heart would take over and the blood would become too sweet and too gentle and too... insanity inducing and I wouldn't be able to stop myself and I would just want a taste, and then just a little bit more and just a little bit more and her blood would sing so sweetly through my veins and then suddenly I would want to be inside of her, in there with her blood and her muscles and her lovely, lovely bones and then she would be gone and I would be left to weep over her empty body. And her blood would leave me too soon. Everything left me too soon.

It wasn't all gone. There were books here, on the floor of this place, and I knew that I knew this place but I wasn't sure why I knew it or if I really knew it or if I'd just dreamed it. That happened to me sometimes. The dreams. They were so real sometimes. I think sometimes, they weren't actually dreams at all but real events. But then again, sometimes I couldn't remember. I spent so much time alone. All alone. But not completely alone, no, I was never completely alone.

I had my books, they called to me, they taught me they questioned me and made me question myself. I had the voices of the past, pleading with me and condemning me and praying for me over and over in my head until I wanted to scream. I had my trinkets, things that I knew held so many memories of my past but I couldn't remember the memories they held for more than a few moments on my more lucid days.

And they were few and far between, those lucid days.

But sometimes, when I was a sweet boy and took the tiny colorful pills they handed me, I would remember to remember the things that made me who I was - I would remember to remember the darkness inside of me, and the darkness of the spaces I had been forced into and held captive in and the darkness is my mother's eyes and the darkness in the basements in which I would hide over the years and the darkness of the heartsblood I would drink from the people I loved. And I would remember to remember the darkness that coated my soul like tar. And then, sometimes it would all be too dark and I wouldn't be able to see the light at all and then suddenly, like she knew I was alone and afraid and trapped in the dark, Amelie would send me someone.

Someone like Ada. Someone like Claire. And then, for a while, their bright lights would hold the darkness at bay. But never long enough, they couldn't do it. As strong as Claire was, the darkness of eternity was so much stronger and even now as I stared at her in this room - I was in the Glass House, that's where I was - and as I stared at her the tendrils of darkness were creeping in and I knew that not only was I so hungry because I had been working for days and had forgotten to eat but I also knew that the darkness was coming and that it would never stop and that I would never be able to be happy as long as I remembered that the darkness existed because it was me remembering the darkness that made the darkness exist and if I would just stop taking the tiny candy-like pills then I could forget that the darkness existed and then maybe I could be happy.

But if I stopped taking the pills and I forgot about the darkness, then I would forget to remember that all the things I loved left me too soon and then I would forget to remember that I must never love things that will love me back because I will destroy them. I will tear them apart and suck the marrow from their bones and I will slaughter them in their sleep as they rest beside me because when I forget to remember the darkness, I forget to remember that their blood that sings to me is a siren song, as strong as the song of the draug.

The voices in my head, they were too strong and they were too loud and I knew I knew I knew that the graug were dead I had killed them with my quick mind and my brilliant schemes and my brave, brave Claire and yet they sang in my head even now. They joined the voices of the thousands I had killed both corrupt and innocent both feisty and dull both good and evil both all none everything the same and everything was gone and nothing here was of any use to me at all because everything else was all gone it was like a puzzle only I didn't know what it was supposed to look like and I didn't have any of the edge pieces, they had all fallen in the water and swollen to the wrong size and...

They were gone. The voices, the singing, the condemning. They were gone. I could think. I was, for the moment, alone in my own head. I realized I was laying in the entryway of the Glass House, and people were kneeling before me. Claire, tears in her eyes. Eve, silent and trembling. Michael, his hand on Eve's shoulder, ready to pull her behind him if I lashed out. The Collins boy was coming down the stairs, his hair wet and dripping. And the woman, the one who was touching me. I knew I didn't know her name, but it wasn't because I had forgotten it. We had never met before.

Her hand on my shoulder felt strong and steady and in her eyes, I saw a sort of kindred spirit. I felt the tears that had been pouring from my eyes begin to dry on my cheeks, leaving tiny crystals of salt behind that made my skin feel tight and sticky. The woman leaned down and handed me a silk handkerchief. "Dry your eyes," she said softly. "You have survived. You can begin again. Nothing has been taken from you that can't be replaced, no matter how much it feels that way right now. You have survived. That is all that truly matters."

I took the handkerchief from her hands and picked myself up off of the floor. I walked unsteadily to the living room, where I sat in the arm chair. I cleaned my face. No one seemed to know what to do with me. Claire was huddled in her lover's arms her eyes wide and frightened both for me and of me, as was Eve, Michael holding her close, and the woman was watching me with eyes that felt like something I could not remember ever having known before - they felt like home.


	13. 13 - Michael

AUTHOR'S NOTE; Yeah. I know. A little bit of cheese last chapter. Forgive me. Or don't. It's kind of cool either way. Anyway, we all know the drill. No, I don't own this. But, if I did, I would be very happy.. (You can sign the rights over any time you'd like, Miss Caine!) Please, read read read. Please enjoy enjoy enjoy. Please review review review. Much love! ~ Billie

MICHAEL

I had no idea what had just happened, and I wasn't sure anyone else had, either. One minute I was going to greet Claire's definitely different professor, and the next I was hauling a ceiling high bookcase from a burning underground lair. And I had thought I'd seen all the weird I would ever see. Maybe I should have been more realistic - Morganville just gets weirder the longer you're around.

The frenzy of the moment had passed, and now here I was, standing in my own house, feeling like I was intruding on something deeply personal. I had seen vampires shed tears before - hell, I'd shed tears before, but never like this. Myrnin lay on the floor at our feet, screaming like a wounded animal. He wrapped his arms around his legs and let out a high, keening noise that I didn't think anyone human - or who even had once been human - could make. It hurt my head, my ears, and my heart.

No one touched him. God, I think that's the worst part of it all. We were just frozen in place, Claire with her back against the wall, her eyes trapped, watching the misery unfold, Eve wrapped in the safety of my arms. I pulled her closer, and she turned her face into my chest as if she simply couldn't stand to look any longer. It was like we were all in shock - everything had happened far too fast, and besides, I wasn't even sure Myrnin was touchable right now. For all I knew, if anyone knelt down to be near him, he'd rip their throat out. I could read the signs of hunger all over him.

I think we'd have stayed that way, frozen, until Myrnin exhausted himself if it hadn't been for Doctor Daybourne. Of course, she had absolutely no idea the danger she was putting herself in by kneeling down next to him, and God forgive me, the risk to her life was a chance I was willing to take, if that awful noise would just stop. She reached out and touched him and suddenly, he was Myrnin again. A darker, sadder Myrnin, yes, but his eyes when he looked up at all of us were a steady dark brown.

I had always felt bad for the guy in a way, he was crazy, after all, and I was pretty sure it wasn't all his fault that he was the way he was. But now, it was a different kind of sadness I felt for him. I had just seen him stripped of all his comforts, all his faith in his crazy, wacked out inventions. Everything the guy knew and loved, everything he had spent untold years, centuries, hell, maybe even millennia, was gone now. The things we had managed to save seemed far too little comfort.

The doctor got Myrnin on a chair in the living room, which I assumed was probably the best she could do, all things considered. I waited for Shane to come in the room and went into the kitchen to get Myrnin something to drink. I grabbed one of the sports bottles I had prepared for tonight and tossed it into the microwave just long enough to bring it up to room temp. Then I walked back out into the living room and handed it to the poor guy. He looked up at me and smiled in gratitude before quickly gulping it down. "Thank you," he told me quietly, "I fear I haven't been taking care to eat regularly."

"It's cool, man. I got your back."

Myrnin nodded again. I could see some of the tension ease from his shoulders now that he'd had at least enough to stave off the hunger. "Thank you. All of you," his voice was still very soft, far from his normal boisterous crazy talk. "I..." he paused and swallowed hard. "If it hadn't been for you all, I'd be dead right now. Truly dead."

Claire's eyes were welling up with tears, as were Eve's. All of our clothes were coated in black, except for Shane, who had already changed and, surprisingly, Doctor Daybourne seemed to have escaped mostly unscathed, as well. She stood primly up against the wall, keeping out of everyone's way, it seemed. Shane shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. Silence descended.

"Yes, well," Claire's professor began. "I suppose I am not necessarily owed any answers, but would it be possible for anyone to give me an explanation of what just happened?" We all sat still in silence, glancing around at one another. It seemed no one was willing to speak. "Ah, yes. Very well, then." She pulled her sleeves down and brushed some errant strands of hair from her face. "Another time perhaps. Thank you all for inviting me over, I'm sorry that it had to be postponed, but it is obvious that your friend here needs your time moreso than me."

She stood to leave, and I stood to escort her to the door. It was the polite thing to do. She paused in front of Myrnin, and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. "I am sorry for your loss, sir," she said. "And I am glad that I was able to rescue your pet from the flames."

Myrnin nodded his thanks to her and continued to stare at our television, which was still turned off. She looked at me and waved her hand in my direction. "Please, no need to see me out. I can do so myself."

I nodded and sat back down. We heard the door open, then shut. A few seconds later, it opened. And shut.


	14. 14 - Shane

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I didn't really want to post this chapter yet. I'm not terribly good at writing cliff-hangers for others, but I do so enjoy my own cliff-hangers that I write for me. They give me a chance to pause, to reconsider where the story is going, to make sure I like the path it has taken so far, and to make sure that it hasn't written itself to go somewhere I didn't expect. And so, I sat back, relaxed, and thought today. And... well, the story has told me where it wants to go, and it will go there. And so, without further ado, my (probably) last chapter for the week. Please read, please enjoy, please review. Thanks. ~ Billie

SHANE

Shit was about to get real. The instant we heard the door open for the second time, the adrenaline started flowing. Michael was in the kitchen, vampire fast. Eve and I were on our feet and rummaging through the duffle bag we kept under the table, and Claire had already palmed a bottle of silver nitrate we kept resting on the fireplace mantel. And so, we ended up looking pretty damn dumb when Doctor Daybourne stepped out of the entryway and into the living room. Except for Myrnin, who still hadn't moved. He just looked tired.

She stood stock still and the look on her face was one of mild surprise as Eve and I turned as one, Eve holding a crossbow and I holding a silver-tipped stake. Michael burst through the door at about that time with one of the long kitchen knives we kept exceptionally sharp for exactly this kind of occasion. The doctor raised her arms slightly, palms out, in the typical "I surrender" pose and gave a shaky smile.

"My apologies," she said, that brittle smile still plastered on her face. "I know I should have knocked, especially since this is Texas. It's simply that... there's a dangerous looking young man outside. He wishes to speak to his sister. I would assume you all know of whom he is speaking."

"Jason," Eve whispered, dropping the crossbow to her side.

"What does he want?" I asked, tucking the stake back in the bag on the off chance that the professor hadn't realized I had been holding it.

"To be entirely honest, I am uncertain." She replied, slowly putting her hands down at her side. "He didn't say much to me at all."

Michael stepped further into the living room and sat the knife on the table. "What exactly did he say? Word for word?"

Doctor Daybourne eyed the kitchen knife for a few seconds, and without thinking, I threw a pillow from the couch over it. As if somehow concealing the knife would make her forget it was there. _This is why we can't have friends over_, I thought to myself.

Finally, she replied. "He asked me if there was an unexpected guest here," she said. "I told him I was the only guest I knew of. Then, he opened his mouth and hissed at me. I may or may not have wounded his pride when I laughed at him. Then, he grabbed me by the neck and told me to march my 'stupid ass in here and tell his fangbanger sister to get out front' or he would tear my head off my neck and... I believe he said bathe in my blood? I may have misheard that last bit."

We all looked at the doctor. Then we all looked at each other. No one spoke until Myrnin roused from the arm chair. "Obviously, he is here looking for me," he began, his shoulders slumped in resignation. "It is as I feared. An assassination attempt. I am forced to assume it is Oliver who is behind it, as he is behind most of the awful things that have gone on in the town these past months. I cannot say I am surprised. Do not worry," he said tiredly. "I will go without a fight. After all, I have nothing left to live for. Claire - please take care of Bob for me. And please ensure that Frank is fed regularly, as well. It has been wonderful knowing you. Thank you for being my assistant. And my friend."

He bowed to Claire, and I was pretty certain I saw her blush before her eyes started swelling with tears. I felt a flash of anger go through me, even though I knew it was stupid to be jealous of the guy. Claire could never be with a guy who acted like him. She was only as affectionate toward him as she was because she felt like she had to take care of him like he was a giant five year old who drank blood. Right?

"Wait a minute, Myrnin." Michael was stepping forward now, about to get all boy scout about this. Me? I couldn't care less. I mean, sure, Myrnin was one of the better vampires out there, but a better vampire was still a vampire, right? Except for Michael. He wasn't a vampire. I mean, he was, but he was also Michael. And if I was honest with myself, I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just handed Myrnin over to his death either, since he hadn't actually done anything that warranted it. "No one's going to their deaths tonight, quietly or while putting up a fight."

"Yeah," Eve said. "I'll just go out there and lie to him. Tell him it's only us here."

"He won't believe you," said a voice from the stairs. Miranda. We all almost jumped out of our skin we were so startled. Eve even let out a little yelp of surprise.

"You have got to stop doing that, girl! And what do you mean he won't believe me?" Eve asked her after the momentary shock had worn off. "I'm a totally kickass liar."

Michael cleared his throat and I looked in the other direction. The truth was, Eve had virtually no poker face. We could all read her like an open book, sometimes we just let her think she was getting away with it to make her feel better.

Miranda looked at Michael. "You're the one who needs to choose who will go," she said. "You're the one who is a virtual lie detector."

Michael frowned and nodded. "It's a no brainer," he replied. "We send Shane."

"Me? Why am I going out there? Why not you?"

"Because someone has to stay back here to protect the others," he replied matter of factly. "And because Jason knows you hate Myrnin. No offense." He glanced Myrnin's way.

"None taken," the mad man replied. "I feel much the same about him."

Michael continued. "Since he knows you hate Myrnin, he won't expect you to lie for him. Jason probably thinks you'd love to see Myrnin out of the picture permanently. Plus, you have the steadiest heartbeat of all of us when you lie. And you know, that's what he's going to be listening for."

I shrugged. It wasn't surprising. I'd spent so much of my life lying to everyone - myself, my dad, my friends - that I would have been shocked if my body had a response at all. Hell, it probably responded more when I was telling the truth than when I was lying. "Yeah," I said softly. "Okay. I'll do it."

I stood up and Claire handed me the vial of silver nitrate she was still holding. "Shane," she whispered, and I felt a flare of anger. Seriously? She thought I'd sell the guy out? Sure, I didn't like him. Sure, he had the hots for my girl, but look at her. Who wouldn't? But none of that mattered. What mattered was that Claire cared about him, and him dying would hurt her. If it was because of something I did? She'd never forgive me. And I don't think I'd forgive myself, either.

"I love you," I said to her and kissed her softly on the lips. I loved her lips. They were like nothing else I'd ever felt - softer than anything, and sweeter than the sweetest strawberry I'd ever eaten. This time, there was a bitterness behind the kiss - the ashes from the fire. But it didn't matter. It was Claire. And she still tasted delicious. Sometimes, when I kissed her, I felt like I didn't need anything else - I didn't need to breathe, I didn't need to eat, I didn't need to drink, I didn't even need to play video games ever again. I had her, and she was all that mattered.

I backed away from her, conscious of all the eyes in the room on me. And, even though I was just going out front to talk to Eve's psycho brother, I suddenly felt like I was going off to battle. I left the group standing in the living room, and stepped out into the darkening night.

Jason had always been a wack job of the highest degree. The worst part of it all was that I totally understood why. He'd been abused and ignored, and gladly handed away to a monster. And even though all vampires were monsters, Brandon had been a special breed all his own. So really, as much as I hated him for the things he had put Eve and Claire and other innocent people through, I couldn't really hate him completely. Some victims are victims their entire lives, and some victims become the things that victimized them in the first place. Jason definitely fell into the second category. Sometimes I feared we had that in common.

Stepping out onto the front lawn, I actually felt bad for the kid. It was pretty obvious that being a vampire was, for him at least, not what he had been expecting. He looked strung-out and bone thin. When I descended the steps, he sneered at me. I found that even now, I wasn't really afraid of him. Jason had always been a coward when push came to shove. He was a big fan of bullying and abusing those weaker than him, but would back down when confronted by someone stronger. Even now, as our eyes met across the lawn, I could tell he still thought that maybe, just maybe, I was still the strongest of the two of us.

"I said I wanted my dear sister," Jason said, closing the distance between us at a not-quite human speed.

"Yeah well, your dear sister is a little busy right now. So she sent me instead."

Jason smirked. "So what? Now that she's married to the vampire, she thinks she gets to have human lackeys, too?"

I sighed to show that he wasn't making me uncomfortable, and that he wasn't funny. "What do you want, Jason?"

Jason smiled and looked at his fingernails, which were sharpened into claws. "I want to talk to my sister."

I popped the top off of the bottle of silver nitrate in my pocket and shook my head. "Not gonna happen, jackass. You deal with me or you deal with no one."

It was about to become a battle of wills. Jason didn't want to bend to me, since he had his new-found powers. And I wasn't about to bend to him. Not because I had new abilities, or because now he was a vampire and I wasn't. Just because it was a matter of principle. I was Shane Collins. I didn't back down. He eyed me, sizing me up. I saw it in his eyes when he decided to play it safe. I also knew it wasn't because he didn't think he could take me now. He didn't want to try to take Michael, who was standing at the front window, looking out at the pair of us. Apparently I was taking too long for Michael's liking.

Jason sneered. "I just wanted to see how married life was treating her," he whined. "And to see if there were any... pests in your house what you needed to be rid of."

I kept a straight face and looked at Jason levelly. "What do you mean?"

Jason smirked. "Well, it seems there was an... unfortunate incident tonight. Looks like that idiot Mrynin finally blew himself up. Only... so far, we haven't found a body. Obviously, Oliver wants to make sure that the Founder is given the chance to... grieve over the loss of her friend, and to make sure that he can have a..." He actually _giggled_. Like the little evil maniac that he was. "A proper burial."

I kept staring. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised the idiot's gone," I replied with a slight smile. "It was only a matter of time before something went wrong down there. Thank God Claire wasn't there when it happened. She's going to be pretty upset about it."

"But not you, huh?" Jason asked.

"Me? Oh yeah, I'm totally distraught," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know how much I love the guy."

Jason smirked again. "Yeah, well, like I said, it isn't definite yet. We don't have a body. But just between you and me, Collins? That shit burned hot. And we found a fire extinguisher in the middle of the room. Or what had once been a fire extinguisher. I'm pretty sure nothing could have survived. Especially not one of us. Well, one of me." That stupid-ass smirk again.

"Well. You know what they say. Ashes to ashes and all that."

"Yeah," Jason said. "Ashes to ashes. Still, if he somehow _hasn't_ bit the dust, the person who turns him in will be greatly rewarded. Maybe even with a trip out of town. For good." I kept my face still, pretending I was facing my drunken father. Still, the idea of getting out, of being able to leave, it made my pulse jump just a bit. I could tell Jason noticed it. "Yeah. Pretty good incentive there. Well, I guess I'll let you guys get back to your little soiree. And hey - just so you know. The next time I see that pretty little wisp of a woman who came out here tonight? I'm not going to be quite so... friendly to her. I don't see a protection bracelet on her. And that makes her fair game."

"Yeah." I said, finally getting angry.

"Now that I think about it, I don't see one on you, either."

"Don't get cocky, Rosser." I said, pulling out the bottle. "You know it'll only end in tears."

"Yeah, but whose tears?"

"I think we're done here," I said flatly. "Now carry on like a good like bloodsucker. Things don't have to get ugly. And hey. Thanks for being the bearer of good news."

He chuckled. "Any time, man. Any time. You know, for a human, you're not half bad. You'd make a killer vampire. You and I? We could have a real good time together."

"Yeah. I think not."

He shrugged. "Your loss. If you ever change your mind... I'm sure you'll be able to find me."

With that, he turned and disappeared, going full vamp speed. I waited until I was sure I was alone and headed back into the house.


	15. 15 - Eve

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks again for hanging around. =) Special thanks to NarutoRox for hanging with me and saying such nice things about my story! Be sure to check out their Thanksgiving themed Morganville story. TOO cute. As always, none of this is mine, as always I'd love it if you would read, enjoy, and review. Much love to all of you. 3 ~ Billie

EVE

This was _so_ not how I'd planned this evening. Leave it to Morganville and the vampires to screw up anything good that went on in my life. Like, ever. I thought that just maybe I'd be making a new friend tonight, someone who liked me before they found out that I was married to a vampire and a total pariah in the town. Don't get me wrong, I totally loved CB and Shane, and of course I loved Michael, but.. well, this girl needs some social stimulation sometimes. Plus, I was hoping the doc made her own clothes and if so that she'd make me a _totally_ tricked out goth version of her dress.

But of course, someone had to go and screw all that up for me. I eyed Myrnin. I couldn't really be mad at him, but he was the one in my living room right now when we should all be sitting at the totally awesomely table-scaped dining room table eating salad and chili and laughing and having a good time. Instead, we were all huddled in here like a group of refugees and jumping at every little sound. Michael had gone to the front window in the parlor almost as soon as Shane went out front to talk to my brother.

Ugh. I hadn't seen Jason since he'd become a vampire and if I ever did, it would be way too soon for this chick. I was sick of him, sick of his problems, and sick of myself not being able to deal with them. I mean, Jason was seriously screwed up. In ways that even I didn't know all of. And he was a complete sociopath. He totally got off on other people's fear and pain, and even though he hated Brandon for all the awful stuff he did to him, Jason seemed to not understand that now he was just continuing the cycle.

Or maybe he did understand, and he just didn't care. Doctor Daybourne was still standing near the door to the living room, looking awkward and uncomfortable. "Hey," I said to her, "It's okay. Michael and Shane have got this covered. Come on and sit down. Want me to make you some coffee? Or tea? Or hot chocolate?"

She didn't answer, and headed out towards the front door. I was getting up to chase after her, even though I knew I didn't need to because Michael was right there when she came back carrying the bottle she had brought with her for the evening. She sat down primly on the couch, popped the cork out of the wine bottle with her teeth, and took a long, hard pull directly from the bottle before silently offering it to me.

"Hell yes. Please," I said, taking the bottle from her and taking a swig. It was... good. Really good. I'm not a huge wine kind of gal, I'm more a "beer that's been sitting in the trunk of your car since last night when you stole it from you dad" kind of gal. But if I was a wine drinker? This would be the wine I chose. "Damn," I said with a sigh. "That's good."

"Yes," she said flatly, "One must learn to enjoy the finer things in life. And I do enjoy a fine wine. Or a fine liquor. Or even a fine beer. Hell," she said looking at me, "Right now, I think I'd enjoy any kind of alcohol, fine or not."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. And as soon as I started, she joined in. It wasn't the best kind of laughter, it was more like that kind you have when you're scared out of your mind and nothing makes sense and you're laughing because if you stop laughing, you'll start crying. But it didn't matter. It made me feel better. After a few seconds, Claire sat down on the couch next to us and she took a sip of wine, too. She passed it back to the doc and we had that sucker drained dry before Shane even stepped back through the door.

"Thanks for saving some for me," he said as he eyed the three of us, slightly flushed, grouped on the couch still giggling.

"Oh dear," the Doctor said. "How terribly rude of me." Then she reached down the front of her dress and pulled out a small, silver, antique-looking flask. "Here. A gentleman such as yourself would probably prefer this to a glass of wine in any case." The look on Shane's face was so totally priceless that it set the three of us girls off again. Shane didn't say anything, but he took the flask without so much as a second glance and gulped down whatever was in it. It was obviously something strong, because his cheeks turned red and he coughed into his hand. Then he screwed the top on the bottle and handed it back to her.

Doctor Daybourne primly slid the flask back down the top of her bodice and sat back, a much more natural smile on her face. "I take it the talk went well, then?"

"Yeah. Kind of," Shane said as Michael re-entered the room. He had apparently stepped outside as Shane had come in, and nodded.

"Actually, it went really well," Michael said with a slight grin. "There was absolutely no violence, and we learned exactly what we needed to know. I'm surprised at how well your diplomacy is coming along, Shane." He patted his friend on the back in that really manly way men have of showing affection.

"Yeah, well don't get used to it. I'd rather pull my teeth out with a pair of rusty pliers than ever have to talk to that little rat bastard again. Sorry Eve."

I shrugged. No skin off my back. Well, okay, maybe a little skin off my back. He _was_ talking about my brother, after all. And, even though I thought Jason needed some serious, serious help (and sometimes worried that he was beyond help at all), and even though I hated him, I still loved him. He was family, no matter how screwed up he was.

"So what did we find out?" I asked, leaning forward to rest the empty wine bottle on the coffee table in front of us. Myrnin still hadn't moved.

"We found out that Myrnin's lab was definitely purposely set on fire," Michael said.

"We also found out that whoever did it is supposed to make sure there's a body for proof. And they're willing to pay a very high price." Shane added. He sounded almost wistful.

"Idiots," Doctor Daybourne added in.

"Excuse me?" Shane asked. "Did you just call me an idiot?"

"No, my dear boy," Myrnin added in, though he hadn't moved. "Though if she had meant it that way, there would be arguments that could be made toward the validity of that statement. I'm certain she means whoever would expect there to be a body left what with the temperature at which the fire burned."

The professor nodded. "Oh," Shane said. "Well, I suppose that makes sense."

"It also means that it wasn't Oliver who set the blaze," Michael added.

"Agreed," Myrnin said, leaning forward now that there was a puzzle to figure out.

"Wait," I said, confused. "Why does the fact that a body wouldn't have shown up prove that Oliver isn't behind this?"

Michael sighed. "Because Oliver was an inquisitor," he began. "Like, a serious, 'Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!' inquisitor. He knows things about the burning of bodies that would make a sane person break down into a curling ball of crazy."

"Michael!" I hissed and gave him a hard look, flicking my eyes toward the doc. Not everyone in this room was aware that there were vampires in our midst.

Doctor Daybourne must have known I was hinting about her because she waved a hand. "Don't mind me," she said as she pulled out the flask she had handed Shane earlier and unscrewed the top. "I've seen far too much tonight to believe this is anything more than a fever dream brought on by something I ate. So please, discuss your magical fire protection walls and your Spanish Inquisition friends. I shall simply sit here and drink myself into a stupor."

Claire Bear burst out laughing. As soon as she did, I did. And pretty soon, Shane joined in, too. Even the doctor started giggling so hard she sloshed some of the alcohol in her flask down the front of her dress when she tried to take a sip. Michael watched us all with a very serious, very stern expression on his face, which made us laugh even harder. When we got ourselves together, he continued.

"So this is bad, guys. Seriously bad. First off, someone wants Myrnin dead and we don't know who. I think we can safely assume it's not Amelie, since Amelie wouldn't have done it in such a sloppy, cowardly way. And we can pretty much write Oliver off the list, since he'd have been more of an up front, in your face kind of attacker, too."

Myrnin nodded. "There is another power at play here, and I'm not certain who that could be."

"Well, think, Myrnin," Claire said. "Who would want you dead?"

Myrnin let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "Who would want me dead? Why, any number of individuals, my dear girl. You may not know it by looking at me, but I have a long list of people who would love to see my head on a pike. The better question would be who wouldn't want me dead. And, it's unfortunate that not only can I count that many people on my two hands, but I can also reach out and touch four of them right now. Maybe five, if you include dear Miranda. Perhaps six of them if your friend here does not yet feel the overwhelming desire to rip my head off. As a matter of fact, the only reason I have survived this long is because everyone knows I am Amelie's friend and that she would deal quite severely with anyone who would lay a hand on me."

"That's actually probably true," Michael said. "Meaning we can be pretty certain that it's just about anyone in town."

"So what do we do about that?" I asked, feeling nervous. I was scared that he was going to ask to stay here. And don't get me wrong, I actually kind of liked Myrnin, but we'd had enough trouble already dealing with our own problems. We didn't need vampires sniffing around looking for him, either.

"He can stay here," Claire blurted out. "Until he finds somewhere else."

"No," Shane, Michael and I all said at the same time. Claire looked shocked.

Michael shook his head. "They know that he'll run to you, Claire. I know it sucks, but until all this is figured out, he needs to keep away from you." I nodded as if that was exactly what I was thinking, and Shane jumped in on the nodding pretty quickly as well.

"Well, we can't just let him out on the street," Claire protested. "They'll hunt him down! He doesn't even know who to avoid!"

We all fell silent. Claire made a good point, as much as I hated to admit it.

Myrnin stood. "No need to worry about me," he said. "I am certain I will be able to find a place to go. I have hidden before, I can do it again."

But before he could continue his guilt trip, Claire's professor got to her feet. "Nonsense," she said with a smile that could only be described as drunken and crazy. "You will simply have to stay with me."

"Uh, Doctor Daybourne," Claire began.

But the doctor cut her off. "Nonsense, Miss Danvers. I am all too aware of what it means to be hunted. He may stay with me and I will ensure that he has a soft bed, and a safe house, and a hot meal."

I flinched at the mention of Myrnin eating. So did the others. Except for Myrnin, who seemed to be considering the idea. "It could work, you know." He said. "She is close, but is a relative unknown. No one would expect her to take in a stranger, particularly one as strange as me."

"I don't know," Claire said doubtfully.

"I will not take no for an answer," the doc said to Claire, and I gotta admit. She looked pretty badass in her long dress and her wild hair, half drunk and barefoot. "I have run a boarding house before. I certainly know how to take care of people. Even someone as eccentric as this man. And besides, I have a state of the art security system. No one will be able to enter my home in search of him without me knowing."

We all looked around at each other, but there didn't seem to be much choice. In the end, we all agreed to the idea. Myrnin's items were bundled up into boxes, and we lugged them across the street as Michael made rounds to ensure we weren't being watched. We never did get around to eating Shane's chili.


	16. 16 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi again. =) Sorry for the delay in posting. This is to be a short chapter. I know, I know. It's a very short one. But, well, it's because I need a change in POV. Don't judge. Anyway, on to writing! And... hoping you will read, enjoy, review, favorite, follow, and recommend! Apologies are made right now for any errors I make in this chapter. For some reason, I've had an awful day typing anything at all, and even though I always check, I have the sinking suspicion that this will not be the best chapter, spelling and grammar-wise. Also, shout out to Reddit511, who favorited, followed, and left a very lovely review for me! And without further ado, it begins. Much love! ~ Billie

CLAIRE

It wasn't hard to seem worried about Myrnin's disappearance. Claire _was_ worried, constantly. Michael had sent Myrnin with his entire blood supply in a cooler, but it wouldn't remain viable for long, and they couldn't risk him storing it in Professor Daybourne's fridge, seeing as no one had yet to tell her that there were vampires in the town.

Which lead to the very serious problem of what to do when Myrnin's blood supply ran out. If Claire, or Michael, or any of the others were caught making regular trips to the doctor's house with blood packs, Myrnin's safety and the safety of Doctor Daybourne would be jeopardized. In order for this plan to work, there could be no deviation from the group's normal patterns of behavior, and Michael's need to collect extra blood would already seem odd, though Eve assured them she would willingly assist on that front. Amelie, distraught over Myrnin's disappearance, had sent her people out in force, Michael reported early the next morning, seeking him out wherever they could think he would be. Though Oliver had assured her that there was no chance Myrnin had escaped the fire, Amelie seemed to still hold out hope that her oldest and dearest friend were simply missing, perhaps laying somewhere injured and unable to find help.

And that meant that Claire had to behave as if she had no idea of his well-being. The evening after the fire, Claire was surprised to see Amelie appear on her front steps, her usual bodyguards in tow.

"Miss Danvers, if you would be so kind as to join me," Amelie said solemnly, "I would appreciate your assistance in searching what is left of Myrnin's lab. We wish to see if there is anything... salvageable."

Claire nodded, the tears in her eyes not needing to be faked as she saw the sorrow of the Founder. As long as Claire could remember, Amelie had dressed in white. It made her appear regal, beautiful, stark; it made her look as if she were some marble statue of a goddess of a religion long since lost to time. And maybe she had been.

But today, today the Founder wore black. She had a small hat on, much like the one Eve owned, its black lace pulled down over her face. She was in mourning. Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze seemed to be directed lower than Claire had ever seen her look before. "Of course," Claire whispered.

The ride to the lab seemed to take forever. Amelie sat silent, gazing out of the vamp-tinted windows, gazing at something only she could see. Claire sat quietly beside her, unable to see anything at all but the grim face of one of Amelie's guards. He didn't seem sad, just respectful of the Founder's sadness. When they reached the lab, Amelie paused and turned to her guards. "You will wait here," she said firmly.

"But, Amelie," the female guard protested, but stopped as Amelie raised a thin, pale hand.

"No, Rosalee. This will be a private moment for Claire and I. Deeply private. You shall remain here, with orders to allow no one in."

"Yes, Madame Founder," Rosalee said as she bowed her head to her leader. "As you wish."

And with that, Amelie and Claire descended into the darkness.


	17. 17 - Amelie

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Again, apologies for the shortness of the last chapter. But, there ya go. Moving on along, yes? I look forward to you reading, enjoying, reviewing, maybe even faving or following! Please do all of the above. Please have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/night. Much love. ~ Billie

AMELIE

I was surprised by the darkness. I was used to being in places without windows, even electric lights were still a new invention for someone my age. And yet, as I descended the steps leading to the home of my oldest and dearest friend, the darkness still struck me. It was an unnatural darkness, the soot from the fire covering everything, making it all a single, uniform color of black that made it difficult for even my eyes to make out shapes.

I hadn't expected it to be _so_ dark.

Beside me, Claire began rummaging through her bag and took out a flashlight. As soon as it clicked on, I wished she would turn it off. It made it too easy to see the wreckage of the laboratory that my dear friend Myrnin had called home. I took a breath, something I had not needed to do in a thousand years or so unless I was going to speak. The air tasted acrid, the aftermath of whatever chemicals my friend had been working with at the time of the demise mixed with the water from the fire hoses that had demolished the flames. And underneath, I thought perhaps I could smell something that didn't quite fit - gasoline.

I was roused from my thoughts by Claire's sharp and sudden coughing. "I'm sorry," she said through heaves. "The air is killing me."

"I beg your forgiveness," I replied, and I meant it. "I have not had to deal with such things in far too long to remember."

Claire continued coughing as she returned to her bag. This time, she had a bottle of water in her hand and a face mask. She sipped the water before returning it to her bag, and placed the mask over her mouth and nose, clamping it tightly shut. "This should make it a little easier," she said, her voice now muffled.

I nodded as if she could see me and continued to survey the room. The light of the flashlight, while probably not helping Claire very much at all, made it possible for me to see almost everything perfectly clear. As I surveyed the room, my heart grew heavier and heavier. I had been holding out hope that my people had been over-exaggerating their reports from earlier in the day, but it was obviously not the case. Everything was gone. Including my friend.

My heart had broken when my dear Sam had died, but this was a different feeling. This was the loss of over a thousand years of time together - an eternity, as far as most were concerned. And the loss of Myrnin's unique ability to make me laugh as he infuriated me. Who would take his place? There was no one. Who could I trust to remind me of my gentler side when I felt pressured to show only harshness? There was no one.

I suddenly felt very, very alone.

How many times had I rolled my eyes at Myrnin and his unfortunate fashion sense? How many times had I snapped at him in anger, only to have him respond with something cheekish and charming and healing? He had saved my people so many times, and had never expected anything more than a smile. He had been the only reason Morganville even existed. And now, he was gone. And there was no one who could continue his brilliance.

No one except...

Claire screamed when I placed my hands on her shoulders. It was a short one, as far as screams go, but I knew she was confused and afraid. I could hear it in her heartbeat, in the increase in her breathing, as her blood flowed more quickly and her pituitary gland released the adrenaline the human body used to help save its life. "Claire," I said softly, soothingly. I had seen the difference between those turned in fear and those turned willingly. If I were forced to take her life, I would do it in the kindest way possible. "Calm yourself."

"Wha- what are you doing?" She whispered. "Are you okay?"

I smiled. I hoped her kindness would carry over when she changed. She reminded me of Sam with her stubborn willingness to care for those around her, whether they deserved such kindness or not. "I'm sorry, dear Claire," I said softly. "But you must see the situation I am currently in. I have lost my friend, my oldest friend, to his own foolishness."

Her heart rate increased, but only slightly. I continued. "And yet, even as I mourn, I must think of what is best for my town. Clearly, you can see my predicament. I have lost the only person who can truly keep Morganville safe. While I find myself to be an exceptional ruler and diplomat, I'm afraid that I am not anywhere near as advanced in the scientific arts. Someone must take over Myrnin's work. Someone must keep Morganville safe, protected. And I'm afraid there is a shortage of capable individuals in this town. Especially of individuals familiar with Morganville's defense system."

She understood what I was saying now. Her body tensed as if she were prepared to run, and her eyes darted in the darkness to the bag at her feet. I would assume there was some kind of weapon in there. I could not see her mouth, but my hearing was exceptional. I could hear her whispering from where I stood. "No," she whispered, over and over. As if by wishing it, I would change my mind. "No. No. No. No."

I smiled sadly, though she could probably not make out my face even from this distance. "I'm sorry, Claire. You have been able to sway me in the past, more often than I would like. But you will not sway me on this topic. I cannot risk losing you as I have Myrnin. You will become one of us, and you will search out another as yourself, so that you may teach he or she the ways of our system. By doing so, you will be ensuring the prosperity of Morganville for hundreds, maybe thousands of years."

She tried to pull away, but I held her firmly in my grip. "Come now, Claire. It will only hurt for a moment. And in time, you will thank me for giving you this gift. Certainly I wish we were in better surroundings, but beggars simply cannot be choosers, can they?"

I turned her back to me and held her against my chest, one arm over her waist. I was thankful that we were of the same size, so that neither of us would have to lay in the soot at our feet. She continued her pleading, her pulse now pounding in her chest. I could see her neck throbbing with each beat of her heart in the dim light of the now-dropped flashlight.

She kicked at me, but she was unable to find purchase on the soot and water slick ground, and it bothered me no more than a fly batting against a window. I took her hair in my free hand and gently pulled her head to the side to expose her neck. "Calm down, my dear. This will all be over soon." And I lunged.

"Wait," she whispered as my teeth grazed her neck.

"Yes?" I did not move from my position, and I did not let up on her. If she had a last human request, the least I could do was listen.

Claire gulped. "Are you certain we're alone down here?"

"Yes."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and I could feel her tears against my cheek. "Oh God, please don't let me be making a mistake," she whispered.

"If you wish to say something, say it," I pressured her, my teeth rubbing against the tender skin of her neck with every word.

"Myrnin's alive," she whispered, as if it were some sort of naughty fantasy. I pulled back and turned her to face me.

"What do you mean?" I asked angrily. How dare she mock my pain by giving me such false hope. "What do you mean?" I hissed, shaking her firmly. She yelped.

"Someone tried to kill him," the girl whispered fearfully. "Last night. The fire was not accidental."

I paused, remembering the smell of gasoline. It had seemed much stronger on the stairs than it did here in the actual lab.

"Go on," I said softly. "And so help me, if you are lying, you will only wish you were dead."

She took in a shaky breath and tried to get free of my grip. I did not release her. She sniffled and continued. "He came to us last night. Through the portal. We couldn't save much," she said, and her steady though fast pulse attested to the fact that so far, she was telling the truth. "He had been fire bombed, he said, and that assumption was confirmed when Jason Rosser showed up asking if Myrnin was in the house."

Without meaning to, I tightened my fingers until she yelped. I eased up on my grip slightly. "Continue," I ordered through gritted teeth.

"We took care of Jason," she continued, the mask moving with her words. "Not... we didn't hurt him. We just sent him on his way. And then we moved Myrnin somewhere safe."

"Where?"

"I can't tell you," she said, her voice rising in fear and frustration.

"Why?"

Claire shivered. "Because we don't know who did it," she moaned. "We don't know who we can trust. We had decided we could trust you already, but..." She trailed off, but I didn't need her to continue. I understood. She was unwilling to trust anyone when it came to Myrnin's safety. I couldn't say I disagreed.

"Who knows?"

"Just us, and Miranda - she's a ghost now and can't leave the house. And you. That's it." Her heart rate remained steady.

"He is unharmed?"

"Yes."

"And you are certain he is safe where he is?"

Claire began nodding. "As certain as I can be without knowing who wishes him harm. Please, Amelie, trust me. I would never ever let him be hurt."

I found myself nodding with her. "Yes. I know. I believe I may know even better than you how deep your feelings for my dearest friend go."

"You aren't going to tell anyone, are you?" She asked, and the fear in her voice for our friend's safety was palpable.

"No. No one shall know. We shall behave as if he is gone, permanently, until the perpetrator can be discovered. I shall look forward to having a little talk with Jason Rosser."

"No," Claire said, reaching up to grip my suit coat. "You _can't_, Amelie. If you go to him, whoever he works for will find out."

"Not if I kill him," I said softly.

"When he doesn't show up, they'll know something went wrong. Please Amelie, if you love him as much as I think you do, let him hide. We'll figure this out without giving it away. They'll slip up, and we'll catch them."

I paused. "Perhaps you are correct," I said, as I thought things over. "I shall take your words under advisement." I let her go, and she stumbled backward, catching her footing before she fell. "Now, you will help me play this out to the end. Or you will die trying."

It was difficult to tell from the mask, but I thought from the set of her jaw and the look in her eye that we had reached an agreement.

Twenty minutes after we first descended the steps, Claire was heading back up them, her ash-covered flashlight in hand. She returned moments later with a wooden box. "Assist me," I whispered, and together we filled the box with wet ashes; this would serve as the body. My people would not question me. The deception had begun.


	18. 18 - Naomi

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's late, I'm tired, and I still want to write! So here goes! I've done the best I could to get my point across in this chapter and still keep it tasteful. I truly hope that 1. People get the point and 2. It doesn't offend anyone's senses. If it does, my apologies. Please - read, enjoy, review, favorite, follow! Much love! ~ Billie (P.S. - I realized I haven't reminded you guys of this fact for the last few chapters - I don't own this.)

NAOMI

There were times when I truly hated the things one had to do in order to achieve greatness. I simply hated being mediocre more. So, I allowed certain... liberties to be taken and was willing to indulge in certain aspects of controlling a man that others of lesser station would be shocked to discover. It was one more reason why I went to great lengths to ensure that such moments of intimacy weren't discovered, or at least not believeable.

This was one of those moments. The little worm Jason Rosser lay beside me, feeling far more assured of himself than he had the right to feel. We were in his disgusting little hole of a living space and I comforted myself with the fact that once I gained my rightful position as queen, I would drink his heartsblood. He rolled over and gave me a wolfish grin. "So, I took care of it," he said.

"Yes," I said flatly, "You certainly did." I was beyond feigning interest in the sniveling little creature. It had been far too easy to bend him to my wishes - even a warrior should have limits. It was simply good politics. The truly amoral are incapable of being any more than mindless beasts.  
As far as I could see, this little cretin had no limits. Useful in the short term, dangerous in the long term. And a queen must always think in the long term.

"No," he said as he chuckled in his terrible self-satisfied way. "I took care of the mad scientist."

I rolled to my side to face him and arched a brow. "Did you now?"

"Yes," he hissed, reaching out to touch my arm. I rolled away from him and into a sitting position, which was terribly uncomfortable on a used mattress on the floor. I would have to bathe in bleach when I got home.

I stood and prepared to leave. Despite the fact that he had done well, I tired of him so quickly. "And did you ensure that he was dead?"

"Oh yeah," Jason said. "That shit burned hot. There's no way he got out."

"You checked?"

"Absolutely," he said with enough conviction that I thought he may be lying.

"And you are certain he is dead?"

The boy laughed. I hated that laugh. "Amelie searched the lab herself this evening. She found his remains. Put em in a box. There's gonna be a funeral tomorrow. Can you believe that? A funeral for that idiot!"

I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to explain to the child in front of me that even though the mad man needed to be put down like a dog with rabies, he had been far from an idiot. A queen must always give credit where credit is due. Instead, I simply nodded. "Well then, yes. Congratulations. A job well done. You have made me very proud."

"Does that mean...?" He eyed me hungrily.

I sighed and ran a hand across my face. "Ah yes, if you insist." I pulled my sleeve back to expose my right wrist and offered it to him. He drank from me as if he were trying to seduce me. I closed my eyes and thought of England. The alliances one must make. I pulled my wrist from him before he finished and nodded my thanks to him. "You have done well, dear. Please continue to keep up the good work. I will come to see you again should I have need of your services again."

He leered at me, "I bet you'll need my 'services' before the week is up."

"I wouldn't count on it," I replied, before leaning down and making sure he was looking me in the eyes. "Now. Forget me. Forget that you had anything to do with the scientist's death, forget who gave you the idea, forget that you ever saw me since the draug were destroyed." I pushed only as hard as I had to in order to force him to relinquish his disgusting infatuation with me.

"Of course, Mistress," he replied blankly. I hoped that blankness would fade. Though, to be honest, it would be better for all involved it remained. "You will leave your door unlocked each night from midnight to one o'clock. If I have need of you, I will come to you then."

He simply sat and watched me leave. Once out in the fresher air, I shook my head. I had long ago learned that my personal preferences would be unable to account for many of my seductions - men always held far greater power than women. Still, it was distasteful. I was pleased to know that I would soon never have to debase myself that way again. I went again to the meeting place I had chosen for Oliver and myself, secure in the knowledge that he, at least, would not expect such physical favors from me.

The meeting with Oliver went better than expected. I hardly had to push him at all, simply listen to his musings. He was an astute observer of emotions, and he assured me that Amelie was well and truly in mourning for her dear deceased friend. She had placed his remains in an ornate wooden box and refused to let anyone near them. She carried them with her everywhere. I had seen my sister lose friends before. She was always so emotional about them. It was one of her greatest weaknesses.

He was shocked that the fire had occurred merely hours from when he himself had planned to do the damage, and I could tell that although he hated the mad man as much as I, his conscience was far less damaged by an actual accidental fire than it would have been had he had to set it. My plan was working.

"Now," I spoke to him softly, "We must take the next step."

"What would that be, my mistress?"

I smiled. "There is yet another problem that must be solved. We still have the Glass boy and his human companion."

Oliver frowned, nodding. "There has been a great amount of pressure on both sides for them," he assured me. "Captain Obvious has ensured that the humans are unwilling to offer them any assistance, even going to far as to deny them food. Michael's blood ration will be cut this week. With the human girl going hungry and the boy forced to subsist on less blood, tensions will rise. It will only be a matter of time before they find they can't take it any more and either cut their losses or have a very unfortunate argument that ends in Eve's unfortunate loss of life."

I considered Oliver's plan. It was a good one - there was no one whose hands would be truly dirtied. I nodded. "Very well. And the Danvers girl and the Collins boy?"

Oliver shrugged. "They will become merely collateral damage."

"Yes. Collateral damage."

"How much longer, my mistress? How much longer until we can reign together as one?"

"Not much longer at all, my darling. Not much longer at all. Soon, we shall be together and we shall rise above this sinkhole my dear sister has created. We shall become something far, far stronger than Amelie and her sniveling cowards wish us to be. It will all end soon."

Oliver dropped to his knees. "Yes, my mistress. Yes."

I offered him my wrist, entirely healed from where that bastard Jason had drank earlier. "Now, my love. Drink up. A new day will soon be upon us."

"Yes," Oliver whispered, his voice trembling as if in religious ecstasy. "And may the sun soon rise on our enemies."


	19. 19 - Myrnin

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many thanks to all of you who have stuck with me this long! Again, a short chapter. Think of it as a little cliffhanger for you, as I am going to paint my nails and maybe go shopping. As always, I don't own anything. As always, please read, please enjoy, please review. And please follow or favorite if you feel so inclined! Everyone take care! Much love! ~ Billie

MYRNIN

I was just so hungry.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, this woman, this Doctor Daybourne, she was far too kind to me. As much as I pretend otherwise, I only know one way to repay kindness - with death. I had only been here one day, but the stress from it all was making me far hungrier than I should have been, but that is me. I hunger, I thirst, I devour everything I can and when nothing is left I simply scamper on my merry way.

I am glad I did not have my medication. No one asked, I didn't think to tell. And so the darkness was forgotten and I was left to mourn in peace. A quiet, comfortable peace. The home in which I was staying was one as beautiful as I could remember visiting. I had never truly had a home when I was alive, but I had been in many. A great many of them had been the homes of highly influential people, some were even palaces. Few had been as tastefully decorated as this.

The room the doctor gave me was of a fine size, with a bed large enough for me to spread out on. The bedding was soft and comfortable and smelled very nice. It was a soft neutral gray, close to a very light brown, and the furniture was a warm honey color and of sturdy construction. There was a nightstand off to the side of the bed, and I rested one of my journals upon it, to read as I waited to fall asleep.

The doctor wished me a good night, made me a cup of tea, and left me to my own devices in a most trusting manner.

I am very good at breaking trust. As the first night wore on and the exhaustion began to kick in, I grew hungrier and hungrier, devouring all of the blood the Glass boy had given me and still wanting more. I lay and pray for the sun to rise and the hunger grew.

I tried working out math problems in my head, but there was nothing my head could come up with that I couldn't solve. I wrote down chemical equations from memory, but that did nothing but make me hungrier. Working always made me hungry. I was just _so_ hungry. As if I hadn't eaten in weeks. And perhaps that was true. But the truth was, I had lost everything. Or, almost everything. And in that moment, I just needed to fill that empty spot inside me.

I spent my day trying to forget. The doctor made me breakfast. It was more than filling, physically. But emotionally? I was starving. It was a Sunday, and as such, the doctor had nowhere to be. It would have been easier if she'd left, but who was I to force her from her own home? She showed me the television, allowed me to watch whatever I pleased. She had built her home in that new green style - great amounts of natural light, but no actual sunlight permeated the long eaves, allowing the house to resist passive heat gain during the summer. It was an impressive bit of work, and I admired the way it allowed me to use the house without concern for my safety.

She left me to my own devices. We spoke at breakfast, again at lunch, and a bit at dinner. And each time we spoke, her pulse was in my ears, like a never ending drumbeat. _Bum bum bum bum..._

I was so _hungry_.

I found the doctor charming. We discussed very little, but I couldn't forget the things she had said the night before._ I know what it is like to be hunted..._

Do you, doctor?

Do you _like_ it?

By the time the sun set again, I was pacing my room like a caged animal. How long would this work? How could I last? I waited for her bedroom door to shut, and slithered down the hallway in the darkness, my body moving as if possessed by some darker creature. The bath in her room was running. I stood before her door and closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of her bathing. I heard the water drain. I heard her feet cross the floor, and in the darkness, with my eyes closed, I heard the beat of her heart. _Bum bum bum bum. Bum bum bum bum._

I heard the bed settle as she climbed in. I heard her light switch off. I waited for her heart to slow to sleeping pace. And then I turned the knob and slipped into the room.


	20. 20 - Captain Obvious

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'll just let you stew on what happened in the last chapter for a bit. =D Time for a change of scenery! As always, I own nothing, but I wish I did. Please read, please enjoy, please review/follow/favorite! Much love from me to you! ~ Billie

CAPTAIN OBVIOUS

I sat in my car with the lights turned off, binoculars against my eyes, trained on the Glass House. Something was off here, something not quite right. I had played every card in my hand to pressure the folks in this town to rise up and protect themselves from the unnaturalness of the Glass House residents. And yet still they thrived. What was it? I had been watching them during the day, but there seemed to be nothing out of sorts. So whatever it was that was happening had to be happening at night. Of course it had to happen at night - there was no doubt in my mind the vampires were involved.

At the thought of those blood-sucking leeches, my blood ran cold. There is a certain amount of immoral behavior one such as myself had to accept. Not everyone would follow a code of honor as strict as mine. But I knew the path of righteousness. I knew the truth. Vampires were a plague, sent here to be among the people of Morganville for being stupid and petty and selfish. For sinning in the eyes of God. That was why, when the previous Captain Obvious ran away, too afraid to uphold the Laws as God had created them, I had stepped up to take his place.

Granted, it hadn't fully been my choice. But when the angel visited me, when she taught me to see with my eyes fully open, when she sang to me in the language of the holy, I could not turn away. I lay my binoculars and replayed in my mind the scene that had been playing over and over in my head for the last three months.

I had come home from work just like every other day. I sat down in my armchair, popped open a cold one, and sat back to watch the five o'clock news. As always, there was nothing on there that even remotely resembled the Morganville I knew. As a sanitation worker, I saw it all - the bad, the awful, and the absolute worst. And yet, on the news, there were these idiotic humans trying desperately to pretend that Morganville was a normal town. What a fucking joke.

This place was anything but normal, and it was the fault of those damn vampires. I could have made something out of my life. I could have been rich. I could have been anything I wanted. But no, because my protector didn't think I was good enough, I was left to the bottom rung of society. Just because when I was in high school I wasn't the star athlete, or the leader of the math team didn't mean I wasn't smart. I didn't need to read books to be smart. I already knew what I needed to know, even then.

Of course I didn't make the grades to go to TPU. I was busy doing what really mattered - working my ass off. I started working when I was fifteen years old and I never went without working. At least, not until I turned eighteen. But that was my boss's fault because he was the only one who thought having a few beers during lunch was wrong. But it didn't matter. That guy was nothing more than an idiotic vamp-boot licker anyway. I was way better off finding a new job.

And so I did my thing. I went to work every day (unless I'd had a few too many the night before - but hey, everyone's entitled to a few days off a year just because), I worked on my car, I paid my bills (mostly) on time, and I even paid my "taxes" when the bloodmobile came to collect. And I spent my nights in my armchair, sleeping when I finally got too drunk to care that the world was falling apart around me. But all that changed the night the angel showed up at my door.

When someone knocks on your door in the middle of the night here in Morganville. You don't answer. But I always made it a habit to check who it was. I had a few friends who lived off the grid here, which meant they didn't have protectors. And while a hell of a lot of people would turn a blind eye and say it was dog eat dog, or better them than me, but I didn't hold to that. I firmly believed one thing I'd ever heard in Morganville and one thing only - Humans First. And so I always kept my eyes and ears open.

And it was destiny that I checked that night. The angel stood at my door, her golden hair shining in the streetlight that only worked half the time. I had never seen anyone so beautiful before in my life. I opened the door, and she sang to me.

I was lost in a flash - remembering the beauty and truth in the words she sang. I learned how the world was created for humanity's use only. I learned how the vampires were a result of God's anger at humanity's foolishness. For thousands of years, vampires had fed on humanity from the shadows. But there were always warriors out there - warriors like me, the angel said - who were chosen to uphold the laws that had been set before us, and that we were there to fight for humanity, destroying both the vampires and those humans who put the demon's wants above the well-being of their own kind.

Morganville was to be the place of the last stand. With the vampires almost completely eradicated, I had been chosen to usher in a new era - one of not humans first, but humans only. And then, when she stopped singing, she gave me the ultimate gift. She gave me her very own blood. It was so salty and so sweet that I knew it was divine the moment it hit my lips. And as I took it in, I could feel myself becoming stronger, faster, smarter, better. I was infused with the holy power of the angels.

A movement roused me from my reverie. I lifted the binoculars to my face, but it was only the strange professor who had recently moved into town. I dropped my binoculars and thought again of my angel, the beautiful, enigmatic Naomi.


	21. 21 - Shane

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I went a whole day without even looking at this. Not because I was busy, but because I was stuck. And I was just unable to decide where to turn next. And, because I am unable to decide where to go next, I'm just gonna... write. Because the only way to get out of a writer's block is to just keep going. So, starting out with the whole, "Powering through" thing, allow me to remind you - 1. I don't own this. 2. I really, really hope you read, enjoy, and review. 3. If you feel the need, you can follow or fav me. I promise, it won't hurt my feelings. And... 4. Much love to you and yours from me. ~ Billie

SHANE

Claire was crying. Again. I got it, I really did. She was tired, and stressed, and to top it all off, we didn't have my leftover chili to count on food-wise, since after the incident with Myrnin we forgot about it and it stayed on the stove all night. In the end, we just threw the whole pot away, since the chili had turned into some kind of coating that didn't seem to be going anywhere no matter how hard we scrubbed. That meant we had to figure out our grocery issue asap. And tonight, Claire just wasn't up to it.

I felt jealousy flare up in my chest. I wondered if I were the one living across the street if she would cry for me. I had no doubt that she would fight to get me back if I was in danger, and no doubt that she would worry about me. But would she cry over me? I wanted to ask, but was too scared to find out the answer.

I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on the tv show ahead of me as my mouth formed all the right, soothing words. "Claire, baby, he's gonna be fine. I promise."

"I know," she sniffled, "It's just... I'm so worried about him."

I was so tired of hearing that sentence. "Yeah. I know."

I glanced upstairs as I heard footsteps. Michael and Eve had escaped Claire's incessant worry earlier, neither of them meeting my eye as they headed upstairs to "hang out with Miranda." No doubt Michael could still hear most of Claire's crying, but Eve would probably have a peaceful sleep tonight. I couldn't say I'd have the same.

I'd tried everything I could think of to make her feel any better. I'd even tried to lead her upstairs for a nice make out session and maybe even a little bit of stress relief. She'd refused. Claire had _never_ refused me before. Sure, sometimes she'd say, "Oh Shane, we can't right now! I have to get to class!" Or maybe she'd give me a playful slap and say, "Shane! Eve and Michael are right next door in the kitchen!" But she'd never just said, "I don't feel like it," until tonight. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

I felt awkward in the one place I should have felt most comfortable - Claire's arms. Finally, I couldn't take it any more. "Claire. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. Want to come with me?"

Claire blew her nose and shook her head. "No, I think I'll just stay down here for a while longer. I think I need some time alone."

_Yeah_, I thought. _To think about _him_._

I headed upstairs, with Jason's offer from the night before ringing in my head. Both offers. All I had to do was point Jason and whoever he was working for in the right direction and I'd be free. Free of Morganville. Forever. I'd be able to put all the awful things that had happened in my life behind me and start fresh in a place where vampires were nothing more than actors in the movies who sparkled in the sunlight. As stupid as that idea was for me to get my head around, it would be a small price to pay to forget about the bloodshed, to finally stop the nightmares, to not be afraid anymore. But it had a much bigger price to pay hidden in the fine print. I'd have to also forget about Claire. Because if I turned on Myrnin, she would know. She'd read it in my face. I'm good enough to lie to vampires, but not to her. And I'd lose her. She'd never forgive me. And freedom without Claire wasn't freedom at all.

There was the other offer. I could become a vampire. I'd hate myself. I'd be betraying everyone I ever loved, but there was that chance. Claire loved the damn things so much, maybe it would make her love me. Love me more... than him. Even as I thought of it, the idea seemed stupid. She already loved me more than him. She always had. She'd chosen to come back to a human life instead of take his offer of an eternity of learning and discovery and... and... blood. I felt like that was what had made the choice easy for her. The blood. Not me, not the meager things I could offer her. But the knowledge that she would have to harm another in order to survive.

She was a gentle creature, my Claire.

I turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stood under the water, wishing the heat and the steam would loosen the icy grip insecurity had on my heart. But instead, the pounding water just beat away at my defenses. Why was Claire with me? She was so much smarter than me. She was so much kinder than me. She was so much... more than I could ever be. So why did she stay? Was it really love? Really? Or was it just complacency? Or was it just fear?

I snarled under my breath as I turned off the water. I dried off in the hot steamy bathroom, and cleared a spot on the mirror to shave my face. Not that I had any reason to be clean shaven - Claire hadn't even returned the kisses I tried giving her earlier. I watched my face in the mirror as I shaved. I looked older than I remembered looking this morning. I felt older than I had this morning.

I went to my room and lay down on the bed, leaving the tv off. I didn't want to hear or see anything right now. I lay in the darkness and replayed the entire night over and over again. The way Claire had turned away from my advances, the way she had turned me down, the way she had sent me up here by myself because she wanted to be alone. As if she'd never stopped to think that maybe I didn't want to be alone.

The clock slowly crawled forward, counting the minutes that Claire remained downstairs. It was after three when she quietly climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom, closing the door softly. I hated the tension in the air.

I lay in the darkness and waited for Claire to open her door and knock softly on mine. When she didn't, I got up and went to her door. I stood in front of it, knowing she would know I was there. She always knew when I was there. But she didn't come to me. I raised my hand to knock, thought better of it, and went back to my room to lay in the darkness and watch the clock countdown the minutes to sunrise.


	22. 22 - Dr DaybourneMyrnin

AUTHOR'S NOTE: *A long note* Ah... Even though I managed to get a chapter out yesterday, my Writer's Block is still all kinds of happy to be here. I'm mulling over something in my head is the problem, and I can't quite figure out exactly how I'm going to go for it. Like, I've totally got the... final outcome of what it is that's going on in my head, but I don't have the how. It's slightly frustrating and is taking up the majority of my creative juices. Enough of my whining - on to the FIRST REALLY IMPORTANT NOTE I have made during this story. So far, I've been following the books' pattern of third person in Claire's POV, first person in everyone else's POV. But, surprise! This is MY book, so I get to shake things up when I like. So yes, there are two people's names as the title of this chapter, and it will be done in third person omniscient, which in case you don't know, means you'll be able to hear both of their inner thoughts if I so desire. Just so you're not confused. Also, like always, I don't own this stuff. Also, like always, I would like you to read, enjoy, and review, maybe even fav or follow. And, like always, I wish to send you much love. ~ Billie

DR. DAYBOURNE/MYRNIN

_Bum bum bum bum... bum bum bum bum_. The doctor's eyes flicked open in the darkness. She didn't hear so much as feel someone moving in her room. Her pulse quickened. She had memories - of running, of hiding, of being hunted in dark, deep places. Whoever it was that was coming toward her stopped.

"Hello, Doctor," Myrnin whispered. His breath was hot on her cheek, and her nerves were alive with electricity as she fought the urge to bolt. Myrnin took a deep breath through his nostrils. He could smell her fear coursing through her blood, and though some small part of his brain was screaming at him to stop, the other part, the darker part, the part that made Myrnin more than a little uncomfortable, wanted to keep going.

And he was just so _hungry_.

"Ah, Mister Myrnin. I was wondering who would be wandering through my darkened bedroom so late at night. I'm afraid that you're much better than some of the options that had been running through my mind."

She sat up, but didn't turn on the light. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and she was able to make out certain shapes, though everything was still so new to her that she couldn't exactly acknowledge which was which. She could tell Myrnin, though. Although he had just been at her side, breathing in her face, he now stood at the foot of the bed, his head low and his shoulders hunched, like some great, hulking beast.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he sing-songed, and he slowly lowered his hands to rest on the foot of her bed. He hadn't enjoyed himself this much in... too long to remember. He began crawling slowly to the headboard, where the doctor now rested, curled in a ball against it.

"I would suggest you take a moment to think about this," the doctor said in a thin voice laced with fear. She had been here before. She always ended up here - discovered, found, and forced once more to run and hide. She was tired. So tired. Tired of running, tired of living in fear of being found out - and now, here she was, on the second night of her own home - her own home, the product of years upon years of dreaming, of drawing, of researching the feasibility of such a design. The house was she, Ivy Daybourne, made into a piece of art built with wood and plaster, of stone and nails. She didn't want to run again.

Myrnin paused his movement, hunched on all fours like a wild animal stalking its prey. "Yes. I believe you are right. I should... think on this. I should remember this moment. The sound of your heart pounding in your chest. The smell of your fear racing through your veins. And I will. I remember this for the rest of my life, which I assure you shall be a long, long time."

The doctor frowned, though she was unaware that Myrnin could see her in the darkness. "You're going to... kill me."

"It's not that I want to, you understand," Myrnin said, a darkness in his voice that hadn't been there since he'd been cured of his madness. Well, one of his madnesses.

"But...?" she trailed off. Ivy had always been a curious sort. It had gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion.

"But, you see. It's in my nature. I'm..."

"A serial killer?"

Myrnin sat back on his haunches. This certainly wasn't how he'd expected this evening to play out. He'd expected a wonderfully fun fear-filled game of cat and mouse that ended the way such things always ended - in the death of the mouse. "Well," he replied, sounding more like himself even to his own ears. That probably had to do with the fact that the doctor's heart rate had become more and more steady, as had her voice. She was calm in the face of her own mortality, and that intrigued Myrnin quite a bit. "I suppose that's one way of putting it. My kind does often end up killing its prey, though there have been a great number of people who have survived the encounter as well."

"Your kind?" The doctor was leaning forward now, interested as only a true scientist could be. "What kind would that be, tall, pale, and surprisingly handsome?"

Myrnin chuckled. "No, my dear lady. I suppose you deserve to know. You would have found out anyway if you hadn't been so... accommodating of me. I'm a vampire, as are many others in this town."

Ivy laughed. "A vampire? Truly? I could understand if you told me you were some sort of cult member. But really, a vampire?" She was sitting now, cross-legged on the bed, her head thrown back in merriment, exposing her beautiful, lean, muscular throat.

Myrnin sat back, too. "Well, yes. a vampire. A child of the night. Did you not find it odd that Michael and I were so pale?"

Ivy laughed harder. "So Mister Glass. He's one as well."

"Well, yes."

"And Missus Glass? Mister Collins? Miss Danvers? Are they all 'vampires' too?"

"No," Myrnin said, unsure when this turned from a thoroughly enjoyable chase to an awkward conversation. "Eve is only a human, though she does have... dramatic vampire sensibilities when it comes to clothing. The Collins boy hates us as much as anyone in town, but he deals with us because he loves Claire. And Claire, unfortunately, is as human as they come, though one must admit she has been one of our staunchest of human allies."

"I see," Ivy said, her chuckles dying out. "And the humans who live in this town, they know there are vampires among them?"

"Oh yes," Myrnin replied. "Absolutely."

"And they are accepting of this fact?"

"To various degrees."

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Well, that clears up some of the stranger citizens I have seen in my days about town. Though, the question still remains. Why are you going to kill me?"

Myrnin looked at Ivy sadly. "Because I am just so hungry."

"Oh," the doctor said awkwardly. "Then why not just ask?"

It was Myrnin's turn to laugh. "How exactly would I go about doing that? Simply walk up and say, 'Doctor Daybourne. While I find your cooking quite skilled, I simply must admit that I have a bit of a special diet.'"

The doctor shrugged, a very modern-looking expression from a woman that seemed mostly trapped in the past. "You could try it."

Myrnin smiled. "Very well then. I apologize for the intrusion into your bedroom, dear lady. But I must ask - may I have some of your blood to quell the hunger in my body?"

Doctor Daybourne rolled up her sleeve. "Just understand that I don't care what you are. I am stronger physically than you could possibly imagine. You are welcome to some of my blood, but if I ask you to stop, you will stop."

Myrnin nodded solemnly. "I promise I will try."

She smirked. "That is good enough for me."

And with that, Myrnin took her offered wrist and finally, he was no longer hungry.


	23. 23 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The writer's block is starting to dissipate. I'm beginning to get some sort of idea of how things are going to play out. I can only hope I don't disappoint. Anyway, thank you for sticking with me. I'm so happy to see the numbers climb on the Story Stats page. I'd love more reviews, though, even if you hate what I've done! Please read, enjoy, review, fav, follow, whatever! A warning - Cold Days comes out tomorrow. If I break down and buy it (which chances are, I will) I may go a few days without updating. Forgive me. Much love! ~ Billie

CLAIRE

Claire's alarm clock went off at seven, just as it did every school day. But unlike all of her previous days, where she was groggy and warm and didn't want to get up, Claire was already sitting on the edge of her bed, fully dressed. She had never fallen asleep the night before. She turned off the alarm and walked out of her door. She paused in front of Shane's bedroom. He had done the same last night to her, she had heard him get up and come to her, and though she had lay in the bed silent and hurting and wishing he would just walk in and hold her tightly to his chest the way he always did, he simply left after a few moments.

There was more than a door between them right now. Claire stifled a sob and headed downstairs to make herself a cup of coffee before leaving for school. Everyone in the house was refusing to enter Common Grounds at the moment, until Eve could find a way to get her job back. It really didn't matter, Claire knew from a logical point of view - Oliver wouldn't change his mind just because he was selling four less cups of coffee a day, but it was the least they could do as a show of solidarity for Eve.

Surprisingly enough, the kitchen wasn't empty. Michael stood at the counter, sipping his breakfast from one of his sports bottles. "Hey," he said softly, as if he could smell Claire's misery. And who knew, maybe he could. Claire was still uncertain what all the vampires could tell and couldn't.

"Hey," she murmured, feeling the tears threaten again. She took a deep breath and let it out shakily.

"Hey, Claire," Michael said, crossing the distance between them and taking her in a brotherly hug. "What's wrong?"

Claire shook her head, feeling like a child. "It's just... oh, Michael. Everything's just so wrong! Myrnin's lab was destroyed, and I know I should feel bad for him, but you know what I'm really thinking?"

"What?" Michael's voice was soft, his eyes kind and unjudging.

"I'm thinking about all the stuff that _I_ lost in that fire. I mean, I've been down there, too. Working for the last two years. And I feel so selfish when I think about the fact that I'm worried about two measly years of my life when he's lost the product of hundreds of years of his."

Michael frowned. "So you're not necessarily worried about him being across the street, you're worried that you're not more concerned with his well-being?"

Claire sighed, recognizing the truth in that statement. "I guess maybe. Kinda. I mean, I'm more worried for Doctor Daybourne than Myrnin. I know that a lot of times, I treat him like he's just a big kid, but I know deep down that he's fully capable of taking care of himself. He survived for God knows how many years before I came along, and he'll probably survive for God knows how many more. But, it all just makes me feel like such an awful person."

Claire felt her lower lip beginning to tremble. She hated crying, especially over and over. She was heartbroken over the loss of her things. She had never been so challenged in her life as she had in the past two years in that dungeon of a lab. And when she thought of the stacks of paper, all the times she had struggled to find something no matter how important, all the crazy mathematical equations that had been scrawled across the chalkboards, she couldn't help but feel a deep, painful emptiness inside. She and Myrnin would never enjoy those moments again.

Michael hugged Claire tighter. "No one who has ever had the pleasure of meeting you could possibly think you are an awful person," he said gently. "You have every right to mourn. You have a finite amount of time on this planet. You especially are aware of how fragile your own life is. You don't know when your last day will be. No one would ever judge you for mourning your own loss. It's easy to be sorry for someone else, because it's not really a loss for you. When it's a loss of your own, when it's a loss of people or things that mean something to you, _really_ mean something, it creates a feeling of hopelessness.

"And you, Claire, no matter how many times you've been put in awful positions, no matter how many times you've fought against impossible odds, you've never lost hope. It's a new feeling for you. Give it some time. You'll start to see the light at the end of the tunnel again. I promise."

Michael kissed Claire's forehead in his brotherly way, and Claire felt just a little bit better. "Yeah, I guess you're right," Claire said softly.

"And just so you know, I'd recommend you explain what's really going on to Shane. He's really upset."

Claire sighed. "Yeah, I guess I sort of realized it last night. It's just, I feel like if I say I'm worried for Myrnin, it's okay. I should be worried for him. If I say I'm sad for myself, I just look like a..."

"Like a human being." Michael finished. "And there's nothing wrong with being human. Tell him, Claire. He knows all about loss."

Claire sat back in a chair at the kitchen table. "But that's just it, Michael. Shane knows about _real_ loss. Like, serious, life-changing loss. To tell him the whole truth, to tell him that I'm sad because I lost a bunch of papers and research? That'd be like a slap in the face for him. Like I think my papers and research as as important as his dad, and his mom, and..." Claire couldn't bring herself to say Alyssa's name.

"Claire, stop." Michael knelt down in front of her and took both her hands in his. She could feel the vampire smoothness of his hands as he held hers. "Shane knows all kinds of losses. He knows what it feels like to fail. He knows what it feels like to have something that's important to you and only you taken away. Shane's up there right now, feeling that loss. He thinks he's losing you, Claire."

Claire nodded. "I need to fix this." She stood, hugged Michael in thanks, and ran back up the stairs, her book bag left on the floor in the kitchen.

Claire opened the door to Shane's bedroom. He was sitting on the side of the bed, his head in his hands, looking for all the world as if he were lost. He looked up at her from beneath his shaggy hair. "Claire? Don't you have class?"

"Screw class," she replied, and went to him.

The rest of the morning turned out to be quite pleasant for the both of them.


	24. 24 - Claire

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a few days. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you without a firmer explanation as to why. It's just... well, Cold Days came out and I just love Harry Dresden so much. And he just... he needed me. But, I'm done now, at least until the next book comes out sometime next year, and so I can focus on this again. Probably. Anyway, at least I left you in a happy spot, yes? I'm just going to keep moving forward now, though I will warn you - I have a feeling that this story in particular is going to be moving toward its end here pretty soon. Not to worry, though. I plan to have a trilogy of them, probably. So, once again, I encourage you to fav or follow! That way you won't miss the next stories! As always, please read, please enjoy, please review. And if you don't want to review, you can always PM me, especially if you have guesses about where things are going! Much love, friends! ~ Billie**

CLAIRE

It wasn't until later that afternoon that Claire realized the enormity of what she had done. Claire had, willingly and without a medical reason (or a Morganville reason) skipped class. The class that was taught by the woman who lived directly across the street from her. Talk about awkward. She thought about hiding in the house all day and feigning sick, but realized that wouldn't work out too well since she and her housemates had a date tonight to attend Myrnin's "funeral." She needed to go apologize and hope that Doctor Daybourne would be forgiving.

Nervous, she headed across the street and up the wide stairs of the wraparound porch. She knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

There wasn't one.

Claire quickly started running through things in her head. Myrnin had lost control and killed the professor. The professor had found out what was happening and she'd killed Myrnin. Myrnin had attacked the professor and the professor had fought back and they'd both ended up dead. Someone else had attacked both of them and they had both ended up dead.

Nothing in Claire's mind went well. So she pulled out her cell phone and called Myrnin, her heart pounding in her chest. It rang three times before he answered.

"Hello, Claire," he drawled happily. "How kind of you to call."

"Is everything okay? I'm at the door and no one is answering."

She heard a murmur in the background that sounded like the doctor. "Oh, we're fine, just fine," Myrnin sing-songed. "Ivy says you may come in. She will unlock the door remotely." Then he hung up.

Claire paused for a moment. Who was Ivy? Oh yeah. That was the doctor's name. Since when had her mentor and her teacher gotten on a first name basis? This was just too weird.

She heard the bolt slide back from the door jamb and turned the knob, stepping inside. When the door shut, the bolt slid back home. The doctor hadn't been kidding when she'd said she had a state-of-the-art security system.

"We're down here!" Came Myrnin's voice from the stairs leading to the basement. Claire frowned and started down.

Unlike Myrnin's lab, the doctor's basement was extremely neat. There was a single wall filled with filing cabinets, and the other three were taken up by utility closets and shelves, floor to ceiling. A computer hummed in one corner on a desk, and there were tons of other pieces of equipment placed in neat areas throughout the room, each with workspace beside them. It looked like a lab you'd see at a pharmaceutical company, or a research center. Claire was impressed.

In the middle of it all were the doctor and the vampire. At this moment in time, Myrnin was laid back as if he were in a dentist's chair, and the doctor was doing something with his mouth. "Um... hi," Claire began. "What's going on?"

The doctor turned toward Claire, a bright light attached to her forehead like the kind cave climbers used shining in her eyes. "Why hello, Claire. I apologize for missing class this morning and not bothering to let you know I would be doing so."

Claire cleared her throat. "Oh. Well, that's okay Dr. Daybourne." The doctor nodded and went back to work. That was when it hit Claire. The doctor wasn't wearing a dress. Or long sleeves. As a matter of fact, the shock hit so hard that Claire had to stop to make sure she was even looking at the doctor herself.

Doctor Dayboure was in a simple pair of jeans and a tank top. She looked younger, and thinner now that she was in clothes that seemed far more modern and showed off so much more skin. Claire noticed that her arms were covered in full sleeve tattoos, marked in symbols and images Claire had never seen before. As the doctor bent back over to peer into Myrnin's mouth, Claire noticed that her back appeared to be covered as well. Now the whole "old lady" outfits kind of made sense. They'd be the only things capable of hiding the tattoos, though why someone would ink up their entire body only to keep it covered all the time was beyond Claire.

Myrnin raised a hand in hello, and raised his eyebrows to her as well, flicking his eyes to the doctor. Claire simply shrugged. "So, what are you doing?" Claire asked.

"Well, Myrnin here was kind enough to inform me that he was a vampire mere seconds before he would have ripped my throat out from hunger," the doctor said, speaking as matter-of-factly as if she'd been giving a lecture, not talking about her own almost-death. "After we resolved that little hiccup, he was kind enough to allow me to run some minor tests on him, as well as letting me see how he is physically different from humans. If you would please lower your fangs, I would appreciate it," she continued, directing the last part to Myrnin.

Myrnin obliged her. "Fascinating," the doctor said, pulling back and sliding a gloved hand along the roof of Myrnin's teeth. "Simply fascinating." She pulled her hand out of his mouth and pulled the latex gloves off of both hands with a snap. "Thank you, Myrnin. I'd like to take measurements and perhaps make a few sketches later, if you wouldn't mind."

Myrnin was smirking. "Not at all, dear," he replied back. Claire frowned. There was a swagger there that she hadn't seen Myrnin have before, and a familiarity between the two of them that made Claire wonder if... **_Oh God_****, she thought, ****_Don't wanna know, don't wanna know!_******

"Yes, now," the doctor said, lifting her gaze to Claire. "I'd have appreciated if you you'd warned me ahead of time about your mentor's... hungers," she said, and Claire shuddered at the look Myrnin gave the professor. This was way too weird for her right now.

"Uh, yeah," Claire said, "We were trying to work up to it, but then everything happened, and there was so much weird going on that we thought maybe it could wait for a few days."

The doctor nodded as she scribbled a few things down in a notebook beside her chair. "Yes, well, water under the bridge now," she replied. "I have survived worse before, and I am certain I will survive worse again. What can I do for you?" Doctor Daybourne focused intently on Claire, her eyes shining brightly with that same look Myrnin often got when he was working on something groundbreaking and didn't have much time to spare thinking about other things.

"I just wanted to make sure everything was okay," Claire responded. "And to let you know that your funeral is tonight," she said with a glance at Myrnin.

"Oh pooh!" Myrnin said, "And I shall have to miss it. I do so love a good funeral," he replied. "Be sure to wail as if your heart is breaking for me," he continued. "There is nothing better than that. If you could perhaps grab on to my coffin as they try to lower it and mayhaps scream out something to the extent of 'I shall never love again as I have loved him,' I'd be thoroughly appreciative."

"Um, yeah." Claire said noncommittally. "I'll try to remember to do that."

"Thank you my dear."

Doctor Daybourne cleared her throat. "It's been an hour," she said, speaking to Myrnin. "Shall we draw the blood now?"

"Why yes, that would be fine," Myrnin replied. "I am quite sated, so losing a small amount should not trouble me in the least."

The doctor nodded. "Yes. It will be nothing more than a few drops." She pulled out a thin glass tube that Claire assumed would hold only eight or nine drops of blood.

"Uh... what are you guys doing?" Claire asked.

"An experiment," both of the (potentially) mad scientists replied at the same time.

"Don't worry," the doctor said as she pricked Myrnin's finger and slowly sucked the blood that welled up into the glass tube. "I will share my results when I am finished. At least, with you."

"Oh," Myrnin said, glancing up. "We will need another assistant in order to replicate the results. Would you be so kind as to stop by later on this evening and donate some blood?"

Claire frowned. "Uh... I can bring over one of Michael's blood bags for you tonight," she said softly.

Myrnin frowned. "No, that won't do," he replied. "It must be fresh from the source."

"Oh."

Myrnin waved his hand in a vague gesture as the doctor began to place his blood on some microscope slides. "Never you mind," he replied. "Perhaps tomorrow would be better anyway."

Claire stood awkwardly for a few minutes before shrugging. "Well, I suppose I'll see my way out, then."

"Very good," replied the doctor distractedly. "And do have fun at your funeral tonight."

"Yes," Myrnin replied, his eyes filled with a manic glee. "Do so enjoy yourself."

Claire left the house awkwardly, and headed back home. When she walked in, Shane was standing in the kitchen in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. "Everything okay?" he asked as he took a sip of coffee.

"Maybe," Claire said. "I think we've created a match made in heaven. Or possibly hell."


	25. 25 - Oliver

AUTHOR'S NOTE: And so... I'm back. I'm still ridin the Harry Dresden high, which makes everything more enjoyable, and so I thought I'd try to squeeze out another chapter before going to see the lighting of the Christmas tree and the fireworks tonight at our City Center. Not sure it'll happen, but I sure do plan to give it the old college try! Now, to revisit one of our friends who we haven't heard from in a while... Read, enjoy, review, fav, follow... Much love! ~ Billie

OLIVER

I straightened my tie and looked over my shoulder to Amelie, who was still holding the remains of the mad man. I had tried to get my hands on the box more than once today to see what was left of him, but Amelie assured me it was nothing more than ashes. I asked her if she was certain they were his actual remains, but it had just made her angry.

Still, something felt wrong. I should have been happy the creature was dead. I had planned to do him in myself. And yet, there was a part of me that felt... conflicted. Certainly Myrnin was no friend of mine, and yet, some part of me insisted that he was invaluable to the safety of the town. It seemed I had forgotten that fact at some point. Never would I have planned to dispose of someone as important as the town's gatekeeper without a plan for who would be his backup.

The thought was worrying. I remembered a snippit of conversation - or perhaps simply a dream - ..._And then, perhaps he will suffer a tragic accident within his lab_... But I was not the sort of man to act on the fancy found in a person's dreams. Was I?

As Amelie stood behind me, adjusting her hat and veil of mourning, I stared at my reflection once again in the window. Am I so weak as to behave as if my dreams have true importance? I looked at my face. There was a pallor there that I had not noticed before. I thought back on the dream I must have had. Who had been speaking? Not me, a woman.

Amelie? No. The voice was similar, and yet different. I thought back to the other important decisions I had made over the past few months. I had been so impulsive recently. That was not me. I had fired Eve as a matter of spite. And though I was certainly well-versed in spite, that was never my primary motivation for anything. And, it seemed, though the townsfolk certainly hated the girl and her "husband's" relationship, it seemed they hated waiting for coffee even more.

Since firing her, I had received a number of complaints about wait times and employee incompetence. Even some of those who had been most vocal about her "immoral behaviors" were asking where she was. And yet, I hadn't called her to ask her to come back. And that wasn't me. Though I would be loathe to apologize, I had always done so when I was proven wrong. No matter how bitter a taste it left in my mouth.

I seemed to remember a voice there, too. _Certainly it would be so much easier if the girl and that troublesome child of Amelie's were out of the way. Permanently_. The same voice. But certainly not the same dream.

And then there was the pressure I had placed on the blood bank to lower the Glass boy's blood allotment. It wasn't something I would do. Certainly I was opposed to the idea of their marriage being seen as something worthwhile, but the Founder had yet to pass serious judgement. And as she had yet to determine her exact stance, it seemed unlikely that I would make my decision without first seeing her stance. It would not do well to distance myself from her affections at this time.

In fact, the more I thought of my behavior as of late, the more I began to wonder what was going on. These dreams... I thought back. Nothing. I focused again on the sound of the voice as it - she - encouraged me to make decisions that were not sound decisions to be made. The harder I tried to remember, the more they seemed to slip and slither away, like serpents. My head began to hurt as I continued to push against the... _something_... that was in my head, blocking my memories.

That was unacceptable. Nothing would be in my head unless I allowed it to be there. I was a warrior in my living days. I am a warrior still. I am not to be trifled with. Pain has no meaning when it comes from weakness. It is only something to fight against, to become stronger than. And so, despite the pain in my head, I pushed harder to remember. To... remember the dreams.

Were they dreams?

Or were they real?

I thought I remembered a wrist. Small and delicate, much like Amelie's. But not Amelie's. I remembered the salty-sweet taste of blood. But it wasn't Amelie's blood. Amelie's blood moved me in a way this blood didn't. Amelie's blood built me up, made me stronger, made me a better... man. This blood, it tore at me, it took away my will, my strength. It made me weaker. It made me nothing more than... a tool. A tool to be used by someone who wielded power over me. I had been used as a tool when I was alive. In my undeath, I had sworn I would never be forced to do anything against my will again. I forced myself to think, to remember more.

"Oliver?" Amile had noticed something was wrong in the set of my muscles. Perhaps the way my shoulders hunched.

"Amelie," I whispered. "Help me... Help me remember..."

I heard Amelie gasp as I turned to face her. The box of her dear friend's remains fell to the floor, but the lock stayed latched. Disappointing, I thought.

"Oliver!" Amelie cried as she rushed toward me. "Your face!"

Now that she mentioned it, my face did seem to be wet. Certainly I wasn't crying, as my vision wasn't blurred. I blinked and when I opened my eyes again, things had taken on a decidedly reddish hue. I lifted a hand to my face. When I pulled it back, there was blood on it. My blood. It appeared that I seemed to be bleeding from my eyes and nose. Now that I realized it was happening, I could feel it dripping from my ears to land on my shoulders.

And yet, I had to remember. I _had_ to. Not only for myself, but for my Founder, my lady, my queen, my lover. And as she ran across the room to me, her face full of fear - as I felt my knees buckle and saw the world tilt as I collapsed - I realized that she wasn't just another woman. And that I could never truly harm her, despite my own ambitions.

I was trapped. I would never be the crowned leader of Morganville. I would never rule alone. To rule alone would be to go back to the Oliver I used to be - the one who had come sweeping into this town a little over two years ago, seeking nothing but power. To rule alone would mean going back to being the Oliver who didn't know what love was. And in that moment between consciousness and unconsciousness, as I reached my trembling hands out to the woman who now owned my heart, I desperately hoped I would never again be alone. Her fingers touched mine, and I prayed to a God I wasn't sure could still hear me that she would still be with me when I awoke.


	26. 26 - Shane

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry. We had a really, really rough week. So I apologize for being gone so long. I needed some time to vegitate and I needed some Doctor Who in my life. Because really, who doesn't? But I'm back now. And so, here we go. Another chapter. This one comes with a warning - I started this story feeling all kinds of upbeat and peppy. Now I feel nostalgic, maybe a little uncertain of the world. Probably going to bleed into the story. Just... blame The Doctor. Once again, I don't own anything. I appreciate every single one of you who has stuck with me this long. I hope you all continue to read, enjoy, and encourage all of you (those who have before and those who haven't yet) to review/fav/follow! Much love! ~ Billie

SHANE

I felt stupid. I was standing in the kitchen wolfing down a hot dog and hoping I didn't spill mustard or chili on my clothes. Claire was upstairs finishing getting ready, and Eve and Michael had already left to head to Founder's Square. Apparently, there was some kind of big deal that the vampires had to do before the funeral. Like I knew anything about the whole blood-sucking lifestyle.

We were on our way to a funeral for someone who was still alive. I had to dress up, twice in one year. Once for a wedding that I still wasn't sure should have taken place, and now for this. If it wasn't my life, I'd think something was playing some kind of sick joke on me.

Then again, most of the time, my whole life felt like it really was some kind of sick joke, so who could tell?

Claire bounced down the stairs about 15 minutes before we needed to get to Founders Square, looking as beautiful as I'd ever seen her, even in her black pants and dark gray sweater. My heart didn't care that she was dressed to mourn the death of someone she loved, or that her hair was pulled back so tightly it looked like her eyebrows were arched in surprise. There was something there, something beautiful and on some level, holy. Angelic. My sweet, precious, glorious Claire. I took her in my arms, holding her gently - as if I could break her if I held her too tightly.

She rested her hand against my chest and gazed into my eyes, and for a moment it felt like my heart had simply broken. As if it was full - too full - of all of the wonderful things she brought into my life that it had simply burst open and was threatening to swallow me down into not darkness, but warmth, and light, and goodness. I felt shaky on my feet and pulled her into my arms, closer to me, so that I could kiss her with everything I had. She returned the kiss and her lips tasted like sunlight, and strawberries, and the pure sweet taste that was just... Claire.

When we pulled away, I was flushed and out of breath. She ducked her head to rest it against my chest, and I both felt and heard her sigh against me. I closed my eyes and wished as hard as I'd ever wished for anything before in my life for time to just stop, and for us to just be able to stay here, like this, frozen for all eternity. It would be a good place to spend it.

Of course, things didn't work out as planned, and she pulled away from me, trailing her hand down my arm to take my hand. "Come on," she said softly, her lips still swollen from the kiss. "We don't want to be late."

"No," I replied, shocked by how fierce my love for her had felt just a few seconds before. "No, we don't want to be late."

And we weren't.

The funeral was, well, funeral-ly. Amelie stood at the front, dressed in what looked like something Doctor Daybourne would wear, but I had to admit - she was stunning. All that paleness contrasted with the black clothes - she looked like a drawing done in charcoal. I found it difficult to pull my eyes away from her as she stood in front of the gathered vampires (and the occasional human) and spoke of her long years with Myrnin with so much warmth and sorrow and pain in her voice that I could hardly stand it, even knowing the wacko was alive and right across the street.

Claire cried, and I held her in my arms. I glanced around the hall, but didn't see Michael and Eve. Not a surprise. There were an unbelievable number of people in here - more vampires than I could have ever guessed lived in Morganville, apparently. Although there was always the question of how long they'd been vampires - more than a few folks had disappeared since the draug, only to show up a few nights later newly turned. All claimed they'd volunteered for the... transformation? But a lot of people were sincerely questioning that.

I was one of those people.

After the funeral, Claire insisted that we go to the reception. There wasn't really any food, though Amelie had thought about us enough to lay out a small cheese platter for those of us still breathing, and there was some bottled water and canned soda. I guess it was the thought that counted. No one spoke to me the entire evening, but a few folks did stop to offer Claire their condolences. I supposed that made sense. Everyone had suspected (including me) that Myrnin had been conditioning Claire to become a vampire and take his place. Not that many of the vampires knew what that entailed, though they all knew that he was the reason no one got in or out of the town without the vampires knowing it.

We stayed late. Way later than I thought we should, and it was close to midnight by the time Claire was finally yawning and asking to go home. I had been to more than a few funerals in my life, but hell - all of those were during the day and were certainly finished way before dark fell. This was a new kind of experience, being at a wake after dark. When Claire was ready to go, I went to get her coat for her, which had been left in the foyer with a human assistant who must have worked for... well, someone. He returned them to me without a word, and I walked back into the room to find Amelie and Claire having a very hushed conversation near the exit.

I didn't hear much of it, but I knew that Claire would share it with me on the way home. I waited until they were done - it didn't take more than a few seconds, and nodded to Amelie when she turned to glance my way. She leaned close to Claire again, and I caught just the very end of what she was saying as I came closer to hand Claire her jacket.

"...before noon, if at all. So please, ensure you are here as soon as possible."

"Of course," Claire replied to the founder, and the founder reached out and gently touched Claire's arm.

"Thank you, Claire. More than you will ever understand, I am in your debt."

Claire nodded and turned to me as Amelie disappeared into the crowded room.

"What was that all about?" I asked, helping her slip into her peacoat.

"We'll talk about it later," Claire said, eyeing the vampires all around us. "Once we get home."

I nodded, and felt a tickle of concern run up my spine. But hell - if you live in Morganville, your spidey senses tend to go off all day every day. After all, something awful is always happening within the town. I put my arm around Claire's waist and together we stepped out into the chill desert night.

As we walked down the steps to Founder's Hall, Michael stepped out of the shadows. "Come with me, guys," he said. His eyes were distant, as if he wasn't quite all there, but he'd been that way a lot lately - I thought it had something to do with how we'd all been treated since he'd married Eve.

And, because he was Michael, and because we trusted Michael, we followed him. What a freaking mistake.


	27. 27 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh man, you guys. I'm a total ass for not posting a chapter in over a month, particularly without giving you a head's up. Things have just been crazy around here and it doesn't help that I somehow managed to misplace my laptop for the entirety of 2013 (well, for the first 17 days of it, at least - it's back now) or that I got caught up in playing New Super Mario Bros U, OR that I also got caught up in playing LoZ Twilight Princess AGAIN, OR that I rewatched all of the reboot of Doctor Who, and all of Torchwood, AND got hooked on Amish Mafia, OR that my seasonal job started up. But, you know how it is. I'm back. And I'm ready to finish up this storyline for you. And yes, lots of unanswered questions, so how can I wrap it up? Because the rest will be answered in the next two installments, of course! So, as always, I'd appreciate any of the following - Favs, follows, reviews, and recommendations. As always, please read, and please enjoy.

CLAIRE

Claire's head hurt. She wasn't sure where she was - the last thing she'd remembered was turning the corner after Shane as they followed Michael, and then she'd felt a bone-shattering pain against the back of her head. She tried to sit up, and as she did so, she found herself vomiting onto the floor in front of her. She heard the sound of her retches echoing around her, but the room was pitch dark and when the sound of her own sickness died away, there was nothing but her breathing to keep her company.

"Shane?" she whispered. "Are you here?" There was no response. Claire shivered in the darkness. It was cold, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn't just feeling that dull ache of what she called, "Morganville fear" that she was so used to feeling. Instead, she was feeling that kind of fear a person feels when they're six years old and wake up in the middle of the night and just know that the monster really is in their closet this time. The fear that makes you want to cry out for help, but at the same time paralyzes your vocal cords. That fear that makes you feel like maybe you're going crazy, or maybe you're going to go crazy if you don't find help soon. Claire hated that feeling. She shivered and tried to sit up again.

The darkness helped, at least a little. Her stomach still spun in crazy directions whenever she moved, but at least she didn't have to deal with her vision swimming, too. She lifted a hand to the back of her head and it came back sticky with drying blood._ A concussion_, she thought, _Maybe even a skull fracture. I could definitely be in some serious trouble here if I have swelling in my brain_. Not that it mattered that much - she was obviously in trouble whether she had brain swelling or not. She carefully stretched out her hands and feet as far as they could go, hoping to touch something. Her mind raced with images of Shane, just out of reach, dead on the floor. They were quickly replaced by images of something old and pale and ever so hungry reaching out to touch her back as the fear reasserted itself.

She pulled her arms and legs in quickly and immediately regretted it as she vomited the last of what was in her stomach. She lay panting on the floor, thankful that at least she was wearing a jacket. She tucked her hands into her pockets to warm them and had to stop herself from doing a silly little happy dance. Her hand closed around the slim outline of her phone and she slowly and carefully slid it out of her pocket.

She held it in her trembling fingers and carefully slid her finger across the touch screen. It flared to light and Claire's stomach flipped as she gasped out a laugh. She closed her eyes from the pain of the LCD screen and took a deep breath to keep from retching again. She carefully turned the phone away from her and surveyed her surroundings. She was in a tiny basement of some kind - it was about eight feet by eight feet square, windowless (at least as far as she could see), and completely empty. She looked up at the ceiling and thought she could make out a trap door on the ceiling above her, though there were no steps, nor was there a ladder. She was effectively trapped, at least for the time being.

Squinting, she turned the phone back to face her and gave her cell phone provider a mental high five. Despite her phone's inability to maintain a signal when she walked from her bedroom downstairs to the kitchen, here in this crummy basement, it was holding steady at two bars. Not the best of service at any time, but she thought it would be enough to at least get a phone call out to the police. She had just finished dialing with shaky fingers when her phone made a plaintive noise at her. She had a low battery. Not just low, dangerously low, her phone was telling her.

She knew what would happen next. The back light would go out, and she'd be forced to hope someone called her before it died entirely. She felt that fear come rushing back, like a freight train. She closed her eyes and took a minute to think. She was fairly certain she'd at least have time to send a text, but to whom should she send it? Who could she trust? For all she knew, Shane was trapped in a room just like this, and despite her longing to know he was okay, she knew it wouldn't help either of them if she wasted her precious battery life on texting him to say hello.

Michael? No, if Michael had been capable of doing anything for her, she'd have never been down here in the first place. Which meant she had to assume he was incapacitated. That went for Eve, too. She'd have done everything she could to protect Michael, which took her out of the picture, too. She could try Amelie, but she still wasn't one hundred percent sure Amelie was on the up and up. That left only Myrnin, whose ability to check his text messages was remedial at best.

Taking a deep breath, Claire typed out what she knew to Myrnin and hoped that his cell phone had survived the death of the lab. Then, with a sudden burst of hope, Claire realized one more person she could send the text to. She quickly deleted Myrnin's contact number, replaced it with a much better choice, and hit send. She watched with trembling hands as the phone told her the message was sending, and she thought that she had seen a confirmation that the message was sent for just an instant before the phone powered itself down.

Her only option chosen, Claire lay carefully back on the floor, in the darkness, and shivered in the cold, praying that her plea for help had somehow gotten through.


	28. 28 - Amelie

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a long time. I shouldn't have left you. But I did because apparently, I suffer from what is called "tax season writer's block." Now, with it being April 15th and all, suddenly I woke up and knew how to finish out this installment! That's not saying this is the last chapter, but think about it this way - you know when you're reading a book, and it starts to get really thin in your right hand, and you start thinking, "Oh man. Either this is going to have an 'everybody dies' ending or it's going to be a cliffhanger..."? Yeah. You've reached that point in this online story. Sorry for your luck. As always, I don't own anything. As always, please read, please enjoy, please review/like/whatever you wish. Please feel free to PM. Please feel free to do anything you'd like.

AMELIE

Oliver looked worse than when I had left for the funeral. If Rosalee hadn't been kind enough to stay with him during the service, I would have had to cancel the entire thing. As it was, I began to wonder if perhaps I should have cancelled anyway. I sat beside him, clutching his cold hand in mine. We vampires were never the warmest of beings, but there was something in his touch now that reminded me of when I was a child, when I had sat at my sister's bedside as she suffered from some unnamed illness that nowadays would probably be cured with a few doses of penicillin.

I remembered how she had fallen silent. Being just a child, far too young to yet understand death, especially the death of a loved one, I hadn't realized that she had passed - I had simply assumed that she was finally sleeping soundly. It wasn't until the warmth left her hand, until my skin felt fever-hot compared to hers, that her nurse had arrived and pronounced her soul departed. All these years later, I remembered that coldness. And that was what Oliver felt like now.

I bowed my head, and wept. This had been a trying time, not only for myself, but for all of our town. I forced myself to regain my composure as I looked at his face. The blood that had been pouring from his orifices had been gently washed away by my own hands - I may be the leader of this town, but I was not above playing nursemaid to those I loved. He mumbled in his fitful sleep, seeming to be fighting with someone only he could hear, and my heart - that had not beat in too many years to count - broke.

I took a moment to consider all the things I had learned the last few days. I recalled the insanity that was plaguing the town - that had plagued the town since the draug. How had it happened? How had it begun? How would it end? There was a darkness here, and darkness hanging over the entire town that I had been too blind to see. No, I hadn't been too blind. I had been blinded. I looked down at the man laying in the bed we had been sharing for the past few months. Too many nights had passed now for me to consider it my own. It was ours, now. I was his and he was mine, and though almost every decision I had made recently had been influenced by him, I wasn't certain that even those decisions had been his own.

A sudden realization flashed through me, and my body rose of its own volition. If what I was thinking were true, I would have a very small window of time to do what I had planned. And so I set to work. When I finished, I returned to my love's bedside, and prayed that my precautions would be unnecessary. Although I highly doubted that would be the case. I checked the clock - it was close to sunrise. There were actions that needed to be taken, and, if my assumptions were right, they could only be taken by me. No one else could be trusted, except for Claire - poor, innocent, gentle Claire.

There was something about the girl that was nagging at me, though. It had been hours since she had left the funeral, and she had assured me before she left that she would contact me when she arrived home safely. I checked my cell phone - no missed calls, no unread messages. I went to my desk and clicked on my laptop. The thing was state-of-the-art, and Myrnin had assured me that it had the most user-friendly operating system that he could create. It still made me feel ancient to use it as I carefully followed his exact instructions to check my email in case she had contacted me in a more discrete way.

But no, there were no unread messages from her or any other account I did not recognize either. This was not a good sign. The search to discover who had been behind the attempt on Myrnin's life, to discover who was manipulating events in Morganville had all hinged around her being able to assist me in the more involved processes. Even though I had done what I could from my end, that wasn't enough if she were not here to assist.

I frowned and called her cell phone. It went straight to voicemail. Something was truly wrong. Despite her youth, Claire was incredibly responsible - and even if she wasn't, I'd be lying if I said humans in Morganville often let their cell phones die - especially after dark. I opened my phone to scroll through the other numbers I had saved in my contacts list, but it seemed I had never gotten around to trading contact information with anyone in Glass House other than Claire and Michael. I tried the young vampire, but his phone also went directly to voicemail.

I thought perhaps Oliver had Eve's telephone number, and picked it up off the nightstand, scrolling through his contacts to find her. There was no luck, there, either. I had a feeling in my stomach that I hadn't had in a very long time - fear. I was alone in this. I had to work under the assumption that if three quarters of the Glass House were not able to be contacted, surely some terrible fate had befallen them.

I lay Oliver's cell phone back on the nightstand and was surprised when is buzzed as a text message was received. I opened the phone, read the message, and closed my eyes as fear began to snake through my entire body, leaving my legs feeling weak and my hands shaking. My suspicions had just been proven true. Though I didn't need to, I took a shaky breath, letting it out as I sat on the bed beside my dear, beloved Oliver.

I leaned in close to him, kissed his forehead, his cheek, his mumbling lips. I didn't want to lose him. I couldn't lose him. I wouldn't lose him. My tears fell more freely as I pressed my lips against his skin again and again, as if the old fairy tales were true - as if true love's kiss could break this curse on his body. I wondered if he had done the same to me as I fought against my own death.

"My love," I whispered, "This is not how it ends for us. Not here, not now. You will survive. I will bring you back to me."

****And, because I could think of nothing more to do, I bit my wrist open and held it against his still mumbling lips. Perhaps for vampires, the fairy tales weren't completely false - we just needed something a little stronger than a kiss to remove a curse.


	29. 29 - Michael

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Good morning. I want to give a huge heartfelt thank you to everyone who has stayed with me this long. Seriously, it was the fact that people are actually ENJOYING what I'm putting down on virtual paper that has made me want to continue writing this. If it had been just me writing, for my own private enjoyment, I'd have simply played it out in my head and been done with it. But, I have a story that not only do I want to create, I also want to SHARE it, and so that's what this whole thing is all about, right? Now, I'm totally not the owner of any of this - never was, never will be, but you know. Whatever. What I am is just an adoring fan who wants to share their view of how things would go if I WERE the owner. Thank you all for giving me the chance to do so. With that said, ladies and gentlemen, the ALMOST final chapter.

MICHAEL

I woke up with my head pounding. It was a feeling I hadn't much experience with anymore. Headaches are typically the bane of humans - that's not to say that we vampires don't experience them, but it's typically more rare than with regular old breathing people. I sat up carefully so as not to aggravate my head anymore, and looked around. I wasn't in my room, which was the first thing that put me off. It was dark here, but not so dark that I couldn't see.

Where was I?

I was in what appeared to be a windowless room that was only about 10 feet wide. I looked up to the ceiling. Smooth concrete. I turned to look behind me. Bars. All the way across. I was in a cell. Well, that would explain the tiny mattress I was on, but I couldn't remember why I would have any reason to be here. I was, for all intents and purposes, a good little vampire. Despite my completely controversial marriage to Eve, I kept my head down. I did my vampirely duties - or at least I didn't shirk them completely.

Wait. Where was _Eve_?

I leapt off the cot and spun around, searching for a way out. I didn't find one. What I did find was my wife - beautiful, feisty, sensitive Eve - thrown into a corner of the cell. I stopped moving and just stared. She lay folded in on herself, her arms thrown out, as if she were a rag doll that a particularly petulant child had thrown into the corner in a fit of anger. I couldn't move, frozen to the spot by fear. Now that I was paying attention, I could hear her heart beating - slow, steady, strong. She was alive, but that didn't mean a lot right now.

I knelt down beside her and gently touched her face. She was unconscious, but I didn't see any external damage to her. I pulled her beautiful hair - hair I loved to feel brush against my skin - to the side and began to carefully check her scalp for any signs of a blow. I needed to know what had happened to her. If she'd been hurt on my watch, I would never forgive myself if I didn't try to heal her from it as soon as I could.

_Hurt on my watch..._ The words were ringing strangely through my head. What had happened? How had we ended up here? I continued to check for any sign that she had been injured, but I didn't find one. So, gently - as gently as I'd ever done anything in my life - I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the bed. She moaned quietly in her sleep, and I froze, afraid for a moment that I'd somehow hurt her, but she snuggled up close to me and settled back down into silence.

I lay her on the bed and covered her carefully with the blanket. It certainly wasn't the cleanest thing we had going for us right now, but it was something. And then I walked to the barred wall of my prison cell and looked out. I didn't see anything. Or anyone. Just a long, empty hallway. "Hello?"

I didn't get an answer.

"Hello! Anyone here?"

I was about to give up and walk to the small basin in the cell to see if it actually had running water when I heard a burst of static and then a voice. "Hello, Michael Glass."

For a moment, I thought I recognized the voice as Amelie. But there was a coldness there that had always eluded Amelie, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise. After a minute, I figured it out. "Naomi."

"Yes. Well done. I am surprised you remember my voice."

"Yeah, well, it's hard to forget the sound of evil." And then it hit me. "_You_. You've been behind it all, haven't you? Behind the whole movement to have outsiders come to the town, behind Eve getting fired, behind Myrnin's death, behind me being in here."

"Of course I am." I could hear the smugness in her voice. "Not to mention plenty of other things that have been going on behind the scenes that will only be realized within the coming days. Not that you'll care by then. You'll either be with me, or you'll be dead."

I couldn't think of how to respond to that. The sheer certainty in her voice was enough to quell any rising disbelief. She was probably right. I probably would be dead soon - while Amelie and I had never truly seen eye to eye, we had respected each other enough to at least consider ourselves allies, if not friends. If Naomi was speaking openly about this, it had to mean that she had planned well. Maybe too well.

I looked back at Eve. She looked so small, so fragile, laying in the cot in the cell. "What am I doing in here, Naomi? Why have you put us in this cell?"

She laughed, and I shook inside. "You know why. Because you are a stubborn colt of a vampire. You must be broken - you may not be allowed to become a stallion, wild and untrainable. You must be castrated - you must be gelded. Then, and only then, will you be of any use to me."

I shook my head. I still didn't understand. "What does that have to do with us being in a prison cell?"

I could hear the smile in her voice as she finished. "Because it is your ties to humanity that make you so wild, my dear. They must be broken. Permanently. By your own hand."

I stopped. I thought about what she was saying. And then, my stomach growled. _Oh God_. She must have had a camera trained on me, because she knew when I realized what she was saying.

"Yes, Mister Glass. I see you can understand now. You and your so-called wife will remain in that cage until there is only one of you left. If it is you, you will have learned that you cannot truly love that which provides sustenance for you. It is like a human having a favorite cow - they may love it, but in the end, they will consume its life to further their own. If it is Eve, then she will have learned your true nature - our true nature, and she will submit to our control."

"You don't have to do this, Naomi," I whispered. "I will be loyal to you without Eve having to suffer."

"We both know that's a lie, dear Michael. And your stubborn willingness to do anything for that pet girl of yours is exactly why you have forced my hand. In the past few months, you have been given chance upon chance to walk away from her - to embrace your true nature. And yet time and again, you returned to her. And it is that fact that has forced me to take more drastic measures. Either the girl dies by your hand, or you die by hers. And we know how unlikely the latter is."

I turned back to Eve. She was still laying in the cot, but she was no longer unconscious. I wasn't sure how much she had heard, but from the look on her face, it had been enough. She was scared - more afraid than I'd ever seen her before.

"Michael," she whimpered, and I felt sick hearing my name come from her lips in such a way. "Why is she doing this to us?"

I sighed. "Because she's a terrible, terrible creature," I said softly. "But don't worry. We've been here before. We'll get through this - you and me. Claire and Shane will save us. They'd never let us down. And," I paused and swallowed. Already the hunger was rising. Why was I so hungry? I'd fed recently, though not as much as usual, since my blood ration had been lowered from the blood bank - they said everyone's had, but I was beginning to doubt that very seriously. "And besides, I'm not hungry right now. If I stay calm, and I stay unstressed, I can go for days without eating."

Naomi's voice came back over the loudspeaker. "How sweet," she said sappily. "It's a shame that even your human can tell you're lying. Or do you not remember how you personally handed Shane and Claire over to me just last evening?"

Time stopped. That's why I was so hungry. I had done some serious fighting - and healing - recently. And suddenly, as Eve collapsed onto the bed in tears of fear and sorrow and pain, I remembered how we had gotten into this position - I had subdued both Claire and Shane, violently and without regard to their safety. I remembered how Eve had ended up thrown in the corner of the cell - I had tossed her there. And I remembered how I had ended up in this cell - I had walked in on my own volition.

****And in that moment, as Naomi's laughter rang out through the dark hall, as I remembered the look on our friends faces as I bashed my fist into their skulls, as I stared down at the woman I loved more than anything in the world weeping on the cot of our prison, I felt the last of my hope die.


	30. 30 - Captain Obvious

AUTHOR'S NOTE: (It's really long. Sorry. You gotta deal.)Yeah. I know. I'm leaving this in a very dark place. Sorry about that. But, you know what they say - things are always darkest before the dawn, right? Maybe. Or maybe, things just have to go where they have to go. I'm not ACTUALLY sorry about any of this, by they way. But, you know. I can pretend. My love to all of you who made it to this point in my story. It really, really means a lot to me. I look forward to starting my second part of this trilogy soon. As in, really soon. As in, within the next few days soon. I hope you've enjoyed this story. Like I said, I've loved writing it. Thank you to EVERYONE who took the time to write reviews - NarutoRox, MorganvilleVampireGirl, Reddit511, Sobia, crystalstar1999, and bekah-lauren'.D. Every kind word you guys wrote inspired me to write more. I hope you all will join me in part 2 of this story, and stick with me through part 3. For those of you not mentioned above, who have also read this story all the way through - Thank you, and please, when you finish, take a moment to Review my story. While I DO have an overall plan of where things are going, every instance is not set in stone, and if you give me a great idea, not only may I use it, if I do, I will give you credit. Your input could alter the entire story! Anyway, as always, I hope you read, I hope you enjoy, I hope you review and fav. Maybe even follow, although now, as of this chapter, this story is complete. Thank you again, and, I humbly submit to you for your reading pleasure, the conclusion of Darker Days Ahead. Much love, Billie.

CAPTAIN OBVIOUS

It wasn't hard to get the sacrifices. Sure, there was a part of me that wondered why exactly we needed human sacrifices (it made more sense in my head to sacrifice vampires), but when I asked the angel Naomi about it, she allowed me to drink of her again, and then I achieved clarity. We needed them because it was their life force that would allow the angel and me to have the energy to eradicate the vampires once and for all.

I stood silently outside of the pen where we had the sacrifices chained and looked over those who had been chosen for the highest of honors. I was disappointed that we had to restrain the sacrifices at all - if I had been told that my life (as it was) was going to go to a better cause, I would have gladly handed it over. At least, I think I would have.

Inside of the pen were a group of individuals hand-picked by the angel herself for how brightly their souls burned. She said they were like beacons of light, drawing her near. She had told me all about how the sacrifice would work, but most of it was too difficult for my human brain to understand. As far as I could tell, we needed the souls of these people to power some sort of high-level vampire killing contraption. It all seemed really convoluted to me - it would be easier to just round up all the vamps and burn the suckers. But, then, I wasn't holy. Not yet.

My eyes traveled over each person chosen for a sacrifice, and I was interested in seeing how drastically different they were. There was the girl Daphne, my neighbors' daughter. She was in high school, and had an affinity for vampires. She hung around that Glass boy's music performances, and I thought I had seen her talking to some of the more "fringe" vampires once or twice. Apparently, her ability to see and accept vampires for what they were would allow me to keep myself from being tricked by vampiric wiles. I snatched her as she snuck out of her window one night earlier in the week. Her parents were worried sick, but the angel told me their fears would be allayed when it all played out - and that they would be pleased with the outcome.

Then there was the town librarian. His vast knowledge of well, just about everything, would allow me to better know and understand the workings of both vampires physically and their society, as well as more mundane things. I'd be able to use any and every weapon the librarian had ever heard of or read about, which according to the angel was a lot. I had never met the guy, but he wasn't very big, or very capable in a fight. I'd simply grabbed him out of the parking lot one night as he was leaving work. He never even heard me coming.

I glanced at each person, trying to remember what ability each of them would offer me, but there were about 20 people in the pen, and it was hard to remember who gave me what. But, as my eyes fell on another of the sacrifices, I paused. I knew exactly what he would give me - righteous anger. Shane Collins sat, slumped on his side, eyes glassy from the concussion he had gotten during his bout with the Glass boy. I had originally been shocked when Glass showed up, carrying a limp Collins in his arms, delivering him to me like the gift he was. But Naomi had told me that there were some vampires who believed in my cause - those that still remembered what life was like before their curse, those that wanted me to end the curse and their existence, and that Michael was only one of many. I was impressed by the guy's moxie. He knew he was an abomination, and was willing to give of himself that humanity may take its rightful place.

I stood in a silent vigil over the sacrifices as they wept, or threatened, but most of them had been in my hands for days, if not weeks, and there wasn't much fight left. I had spent the time I had with each of them explaining what an honor they had been given, but none of them seemed to understand it. Collins had spat in my face when I tried to explain it to him when he woke up the night before. It had been all I could do to walk away without knocking him out again. But I had tempered my anger, knowing that Shane was important to the cause.

I opened the gate and carefully walked through the crowd, gently touching each person's face before kneeling down to inject them with the needles Naomi had given me. Each had been pre-filled with some sort of knock-out drug, and it was easy enough to just poke it in their arms and push the plunger down. Many didn't fight me at all, others tried weakly to struggle away. Daphne just wept. It was sad that the kid had to go, she would be a real looker one day. But that didn't matter. She would serve a higher purpose.

Collins was the last I had to inject, and as I knelt down, he raised his eyes to me, trying his best to focus on my face. "You're an idiot, dude," he slurred as I rolled up his shirt sleeve to find a good spot for the needle. "You think you're so righteous, man. You've been played. You're about to get rid of everyone in town with the ability to stop the vampires from taking every single human out in a week."

I shook my head sadly. He just didn't understand. I depressed the plunger into the needle, and he struggled weakly for a few more seconds before succumbing to the medication. I had done my holy duty.

I closed the gate behind me, dumping the used needles into the plastic bag I had looped around one of the posts. It was thrilling as I watched the vampire supporters slowly join us in the park. As the sun set, they came in twos and threes until about thirty vamps stood silently in the slowly growing darkness. I looked them over. I hadn't seen most of them before, but some I knew by sight. And the ones I recognized surprised me.

Most of the vampires in the group that I knew were the ones who, according to talk, were against the idea of living in peace with humanity, if there even was such a thing. They had been vocal about the fact that vampires were better than humans, stronger, the next stage in an evolutionary process that would eventually see them as masters of the human race. And something in their stance didn't sit quite right. I thought back to what Collins had just told me. _You've been played_...

But I pushed that thought from my mind as Amelie, the town Founder, arrived, escorted by our other secret weapon, Oliver. He was, Naomi had told me, our sleeper agent. It was through him that the angel had learned who to turn. It was through him that she had become able to create this chance at a new, vampire-free world. I had always hated the guy, but now, suddenly, I could do nothing more than respect him.

That, above all else, didn't sit well with me. The Founder was dressed in her typical white, not a spot on her long, summer dress. I felt disgust rising in me just looking at her and what she stood for. I saw the flash of silver as Oliver pulled the stake from his jacket pocket, and for just a moment, I thought I saw resignation on Amelie's face. It was swiftly erased by shock, then pain, as Oliver plunged the stake into the Founder's heart.

As the Founder collapsed, blood soaking her chest instantly, Naomi stepped out of the shadows. "It's time, my followers."

I didn't know what was happening at first. I was too busy watching Oliver's face. The look of it was one of heartbreak, of pain, and of horror. As if he hadn't really expected to harm Amelie. Naomi stepped over the Founder's body and pressed her lips to the man. "Well done, my king. Ladies and gentlemen, the Founder's foolish belief that we can coexist with humanity has finally died. We shall now rule from a position of strength, not weakness. My loyal subjects, the queen is dead. Long live the queen." She gestured at the sacrifices - the human beings I had been fooled into trapping, into drugging into stupors so they couldn't fight back, and spoke with the greatest of joy. "My people. Let the feast begin."

****And as I watched the creatures I had hated my entire life begin to stalk my way, I realized far too late what a terrible mistake I had made.

THE END


End file.
